Why Did You Let Me Sleep on the Couch Again?

By PAUL GARLICK April 25, 2016

I woke up on the couch this morning. Again. Why did my roommate let me sleep there? He knows I have back problems, and I know he saw me sleeping there. I haven’t felt this sore since last weekend, when he left me on the couch. Maybe wake me up next time, ok?

Why did you let me sleep on the couch again
                           Illustrated by Blanche Froelich

The couch is a hard place to understand. After crawling back to your dorm from whatever party you attended, taking a nap on the couch seems like a good decision. It’s easy. It’s convenient. You’re tired. You just need a minute on the couch. But, when you sleep on that couch, it will come back at you with a fiery vengeance. You’ll wake up sore, confused, and significantly more tired than you were the night before. You will regret absolutely everything about the experience, and the worst part is it would not have happened had your roommate cared.

If your roommate doesn’t wake you up from the couch, there is no clearer sign that they hate you with a passion deep in the core of their cold, dead heart. It’s the only reason they would let you sleep in such an unforgiving, inhospitable place. How many times has my roommate heard me complaining about waking up on the couch again? Too many. And how many times has he woken me up after seeing me asleep on the couch? Not once. He promised he would make sure that I made it to my bed, but he didn’t. I woke up in a hazy cloud, cold and shivering, yet again, with my faith in humanity crushed.

I TRUSTED YOU! I thought you really cared about me, but I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. You really just hate me. After all this time you’ve pretended to like me and just hid your hatred from me. You probably talk about me behind my back. Well, guess what? I HATE YOU TOO! I never liked you. I never want to see you or talk to you again, and now that I think about it, nowhere could possibly be as bad as any room you’re in. I’m sleeping on the couch for the rest of the year, so I never have to see your disgusting, backstabbing face again, you emotionless rat. Goodbye, Michael. Goodbye for good.

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