Living in your Living Room

I feel sad for rooms that are left alone and unused. It's funny, often the largest of rooms are the most neglected; initially praised for their existence, we save them for a special occasion, fill them awkwardly with family heirlooms, then discard them with barely a shrug because they feel too uncomfortable. Before we know it, we see them as a growing nuisance of a rabbit hole, falling into the center of our (seemingly) perfect home.

If I was a living room, I would want to speak up; curious to know why you had let me fall apart. All that potential, accidentally stifled by good intentions. If you didn't hear me, I would scream quite loud, and tell you to use me (well, that might sound odd, but you know what I mean) and ask you where all the joy had gone. I would perhaps even move the furniture around when you weren't looking; like a very decorative ninja, opening curtains, and making small, neat piles by the doorway.

I couldn't draw you a picture, because rooms can't draw, but if I could speak, this is what I would say...

• Why not bring the furniture closer, so you can talk to your friend without raising your voice or leaning awkwardly towards her. 
• How about a table and a coaster for that glass of wine?
• Let's put that sofa over there, instead of here (don't ask me why, but that's what "they" always say, and if they say it then it must be true).
• Open the curtains, it's a gorgeous day outside!
• Why don't you put away some of those things you don't like, that you got from that person you don't like? 
• Can you really read with that single, piddly light?
• Let's have some fun, and invite someone over!