By Victoria Messina
To my lovely bed,
We spend a lot of time together — about six or seven consecutive hours per day to be exact, and sometimes a few random midday hours in between. I spend more time with you than anything else in my life, and yet I rarely share my deep gratitude and appreciation for you. I’d like to take this opportunity to properly thank you for singlehandedly being the source of the utmost comfort and support.
Thank you, bed, for always being there. I guess you technically don’t have a choice because you can’t exactly walk down my stairs and leave the house, but I digress. You’ve always got my back (and I guess the rest of my body, too, if we’re being literal) when I need you most. When I come home from the library at 2 a.m. reeking of coffee and exhaustion. When I snuggle up with my panda Pillow Pet and the ninth season of The Office before drifting off to sleep. When I lie down with a textbook with every intention of studying but I inevitably end up napping anyways. When I collapse onto you and let out a sigh of relief after a tiring day of work or class. I rely on you every day, yet you never expect anything in return (except a trip to the washing machine for your sheets every now and then.)
Thank you for your warm embrace on those chilly winter mornings. Your cloud-like purple sheets wrap around me like a cocoon, tempting me to skip class. I slightly resent you for your persuasive nature, but I promise I won’t hold it against you. It’s been a true test of self-discipline to leave you each morning, as I’ve learned how to deny the lure of spending all day with you.
Your headboard holds some of my favorite things — a collection of magazines, a smattering of candles and mason jars and that one tacky yard-long cup that somehow made it back from Mexico — all of which make my room in Gainesville truly feel like home.
You never judge me when I drunkenly eat leftover pizza and a whole bag of pretzels after a long night out. And for that, you’re the real MVP. You’ve been the site of midnight heart-to-heart talks with my friends, and I know you’ll never spill the beans on our deepest, darkest secrets. Your gray comforter is the perfect canvas for when I lay out my outfits in the morning before class or at night before going out. This usually translates to having the contents of my entire closet laid out on top of you, but you never complain.
My ultimate happy place is when I curl up my homework in the early evening — the sunset’s beams of light burst through my window, warming your sheets and transforming my room into a golden paradise. I sink into that indentation formed by sleeping in the same spot on your left side every night — my own little crevice that fits no one else’s body but mine.
We’ve formed a bond over the last four years, you and I. It breaks my heart to say I don’t think you’ll fit in my shoebox-sized apartment when I move to New York, but just know I’ll cherish every night spent with you until we go our separate ways.