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The Desk

Some days I look at certain objects in my room and simply wonder about them. How have they affected my life?
Right now the plain white I-pod headphones sit stranded on the top of the oak desk almost depressingly. In my mind though, I know I listen to music only when I’m a little sad or need some inspiration. They are my umbilical cord to my deepest thoughts and my closest desires.
The sunglasses, left over from a Halloween party are caressing the headphones. Can these simple pair of sunglasses represent the good I see? I know the night at the party I saw nothing but good from them, are they my eyes seeing joy?
The clock that sits next to my bed slowly ticks away the minutes of life and pushes me to be more than just average, for I know the legacy you leave is more important than what people thought when you were alive.
The pad of sticky notes where I wrote down my thoughts are perched next to the sunglasses, if the headphones are the way into my thoughts then these sticky notes represent the way out. The sticky notes are all different colors to represent my many ideas and so my thoughts can soar like a rainbow.
There is tape on the corner of the desk and a small bottle of whiteout. The tape is when my life is the hardest and needs to be held together by something strong. It’s clear so no one else can see my pain. The whiteout is when something written permanently in my thoughts needs to be erased and forgotten.
Now I think of the desk. The hard brown surface is covered by a rectangle of hard leather. Leather makes a good writing surface, but for now it shall serve as my life itself with everything on top of it, the good the bad and all my thoughts. That’s what an old desk can do for you.





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