Deep breath….. It’s just a cupboard.

She walked past every section but stopped to pick up on of those little pencils and lists. She took  two steps forward only to take take two steps back.

“I think I’m going to need two of these, ” she thought, grabbing another pencil, “and another one of these,” grabbing another number list.

She walked, hunched, past families picking browsing through potential bedrooms, potential bathrooms and kitchens, potentials ……

She hunched.

Seeing a man draw his partner closer to him while they stared at a baby’s crib reminded somehow her to straighten her back and broaden her shoulders.

She walked in and out of bedrooms. Fingers grazed surfaced like silk and absorbing their feel like sponge. Then she touched something. The wood was smoothened but with a minimal layer of wax.

Opening her eyes fully for the first time she saw a moderately sized four-door wardrobe. A reddish hue tinged its surface.

The doors opened to comfortably spaced clothing racks and shelves. It was tall but not tall enough to make it unreachable. It was wide but not wide enough to cramp the space in her room.

Item number jotted down, her little legs took quick strides with wide eyes and wide shoulders.

The narrow pathway soon expanded leading her to the warehouse-like room filled with neatly stored furnitue.

She loved this place. The enormity of the space spread out the distances between people. There was so much air to breathe, and that smell of cardboard boxes, which calmed her senses.

A1380 …… A1380

A….. 1…3….





Startled she took a 360 degree turn and saw no one around.

She swore she had heard a man’s voice come from somewhere near by. No not just somewhere, from right in front of her. She peered closer into the shelf.

“People always get surprised when their furniture talks to them, relax. I’ve been waiting for you . I’m the last one of the batch left here on the shelf, let’s go!”

She blinked.

There was no one. Just 1380 printed boldly on a large, lone cardboard box. Everything else was at least a few feet away.

The box is talking to me? I’ve gone insane. I have been single for way too long. I need to eat.

“I’m sorry.”

He interrupted her thoughts. His voice was warm and soft. It very well could have been a woman’s voice if it didn’t have a underlying baritone note.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been waiting for quite some time, frankly I don’t think I was ready to be taken away until now. I didn’t mean to startle you. The trolleys are at the end of the next isle. Grab one, come get me and we can sort the rest out once we’re out of here.”

“Oh… Yes… Oh…kay….”

Wobbly legs worked their way through the isles. She processed nothing, just grabbed the huge box in which her dismantled (talking?) cupboard sat in, and went to the counter.

Into the back seat he went. She sat infront and gripped the steering wheel.

“I’m Lionel by the way.”

Ok it’s real. She turned her head around.

“M.. M..Mel… Melissa. That’s my name. You talk. Is it the box talking or the cupboard?”

He laughed. “Cardboard boxes can’t talk, silly!”

“Well up until today, as far as I knew,neither could cupboards.”

“Fair point.”
It took her two days to put him together. She’d come back from work, turn the kettle on and the house would smell of coffee. He said he never acquired a taste and never understood people’s love for it. But in here, on her, he liked it.
For the last time she put her screwdriver down, swung the doors back and forth to make sure they worked smoothly and fell back on her bed.

“I feel good. It feels good to be in one, big, useful piece.”

” You look good.”

” So come on! Get your clothes out of those boxes. You have a cupboard now!”

” They can wait. I’m going to sit back and enjoy my craftsmenship.”

They laughed together. He liked this. He was home.




you know sometimes you adjust your plans and hopes for some one else…

all cool….not quite, but whatever…

then you adjust your hopes and your plans for yourself…

because in some day you need to take a detour before you dive straight into your goals…and maybe sometimes you fall in love…with a place, or a person…you find home…maybe a mobile home…and then you pick other things your interested in so that you dont have to be far from your self established home…

i’m not sure what to think of it…

well i guess you can be pleased with the fact that this time the ‘detour sign’ was planted on the road, by you yourself…that’s something…there’s more reason to be motivated…and for the decisions that mainly involve you and other valueless things that you need to fall through those decisions like money….you should never apologize…never regret….

learn and pick up and walk…right? right….


anyway i’ve heard a lot of new bands off lately….brilliant ones, five finger death punch, all that remains…so much good music out there it makes me want to cry, and i want to be in that ‘so much good music out there’…

it’s not far…time is currently in my hands…well sort of…

decisions too…

just not the money…


and ok what i was trying to say is that with all the awesome bands that i’ve heard, i also listened to new shit by MIA…well not new new…but the second last album…and man does that music add the funk to my pyjamas…

dash the curry yo!


I’m not sure why I sit working it out….the science of fucking up with the signs of fucking up…

What triggers these self depreciating acts of madness and self inflicted blows …or should I say, full on knock outs…..

It’s like I’m hanging from the edge of a building and my body is dangling over a resident’s window, and the dude is an over grown 10 year old who watches way too much fucking ‘Batman Beyond’ and is tickling me…

And I’m yelling…’kid, for fuck’s sake quit it! go call a fucking ambulance…no, call your mummy…’…and he’s giggling his wee guts out ,”hahahaha, you said fucking! Eewww…don’t worry random suicidal stranger, why do we got super heroes like batman?”

No, you don’t have to find It remotely funny…

My humor is dwindling like the suicidal me..

And I’m unapologetic about my intentions…..i’m unapologetic and excessively silent….well the silence that I bind my mouth with through out the day is simple to ensure that when I meet HIM … I would have already, habitually been unable to mention anything….and when I can say nothing I can speak nothing of my intentions….. why do I have to permanently or semi-permanently or temporarily, shut my pie hole for HIS sake?

Because I love the dude, aight? And the dude’s the man…he’s fucking A…he’s pretty fucked up too….and has got shitloads on his plate….and I’m not going to the be the mofo who places the icing on the shit….aight?

I don’t say aight…in fact, I barely swear in normal conversation…

I find it unnecessary… and a replacement for the ‘lack of better words’….however, in times where emphasis is needed…when a verbal release is needed because punching a wall is not possible…

I should go…i really should go…..and find my way home….