Her grey couch

 When I moved in with my ex-boyfriend, I bought a couch for our new apartment. 

This couch somehow symbolizes my journey in Kyoto. 

I bought it from someone I knew from my high school in Kyoto. 

Someone I had always looked up to and admired. When the couch arrived, it reminded me of how someone I had known and lived with for two years. Someone I never really got close to but lived with and knew so much about. I can't really pinpoint what I would know about her but I knew that there were probably some things I know that not a lot of people have noticed.

She is someone I aspire to be. I was more excited about having her couch than getting a couch. 

Little did I know that this couch would signify my time in Kyoto. 

After my ex-boyfriend and I had moved in, all we would do was argue. I remember crying in my bed, while he slept on the couch while I had gotten covid. Some of the best and worst moments were on this couch. 

The best wasn't about my boyfriend though. The best memories of this couch were created with my friend. My friend and I really grew close together during the time she slept over. She would stay over on the couch and we would just be able to talk about whatever and whoever as time went on. The world stood still. In the middle of all the hurt and pain I was going through, she was my escape. When she slept over on the couch, I felt safer. I felt like without saying anything she could tell if something was wrong. She would go to the gym and text me, asking if she could come over. I always felt so relieved when she would do that. 

I felt like I didn't have much of an apartment to call my own. It had my boyfriend's name written all over it. The only time I felt free was with my friend on that perfectly grey couch. 

Once my boyfriend and I broke up it was where I cried the most. Where I ate the most. Where I would watch movies about love, despising the entire concept of falling in love. One day, before I knew it, I was eating with this guy on this couch. Cuddling, crying, watching movies, and finding comfort on the couch. 

 It's so easy to hold sentimental values to things. But this couch, in particular, made me find myself. Without my friend there for me, to console me, to take the pain away, I wouldn't be able to be who I am today. 

We've had our ups and downs since then. But I don't think I could ever thank her enough because a part of me holds on to those happy memories that were created during the toughest times. She's moved away since then but I still call the couch her bed. To me, it will always be her bed.