A sleepy cat lays, slumped, at the foot of the bed.
He kindly embraces the soft entanglements of the geometrically patterned gray comforter and floppy floral sheets that sit shuffled beneath.
Various wires ooze from behind the left lower corner of the messy bed. Emerging in wadded loops and links on top and around each other, almost romantically.
Trying their best to figure out how to separate from their codependent relationships to one another.
A weary stuffed monkey lays lifelessly on its side in the mix of the crosshairs of the tangled wires.
An array of paintings, drawings, tactile works and a single handwritten note decorate the walls that encompass the fixed positioning of the unmade bed.
Each line and stroke on the artworks that border my bedside scream a burning question to me.
Why aren't you creating?
I can feel their hunger for my productivity but more so I can hear their bellies growl and cry for my burn out and deterioration.
The blank television screens glares at me in an aggitated fashion as I interact more intimately with its close-relative, the computer.
I can see the blurry silhouette of the apple icon planted on the lid of laptop glowing inside the frame of the black screen.
The furious and jealous television sits on top of a white, square piece of furniture that has cut outs throughout its regions for boxes to store objects.
Only one empty slot of the structure is filled with a soft, plush gray cube, while the others are stuffed to the brim with unnecessary knick-knacks.
A paper card with a cartoon giraffe on it sits perched in the mix with two miniature skeleton statues who are each in yoga positions.
While one skeleton sits in a mediative state, the other stands on its head with its boney legs straight and reaching towards the sky.
A gilded and ancient looking heart shaped artifact is placed, almost ritualistically, between the two active skeleton figures.
The heart dish contains crimson colored glitter fragments and reflective tiny gems.
I begin to wonder if this cluster of objects should be considered unnecessary at all because all seem to hold some kind of meaning, seeing as they have been fixed in these positions for so long that they have collected dust.
The card was from my parents from my 20th birthday.
I should probably also mention that I never throw any of the cards I receive away and keep most of them inside a glittery red and gold box that awaits patiently in the corner of my room.
My theory is that one day when I am old and alone and when my mind is fading even more greatly than it already is now, I will be able to look at the cards and feel their warmth.
The two skeletons could easily be reminders to continue mediating and to always strive to grow my ability to be still.
The glitter filled heart dish could be a way to help me to remember the importance of keeping both magic and imagination alive.
So the question remains if these objects feel so strange and unnecessary being grouped together in this niche underneath the TV from a distance then why do hold so much value to me when I really look at them?
Or a larger question could be what is an object in the first place?
What is the nature of the relationship between objects and human beings?
Do they have personalities?
Do they have memories?
Do they have wants and desires?
Do they crave to be seen and heard the same as humans?
I wonder.