Photo by Squared.one on Unsplash
Hey friend.
Remember me?
Of course you do. The last time you opened me is only one procrastination and two minutes ago.
I've noticed we've been spending a lot of time together lately, and I must admit I feel flattered. For the first time, I really feel like you're trying to get to know me better. Like you're really interested in what's on the inside, not the outside, you know? Sure, I might not be the most attractive fridge you've ever seen, and I'm definitely not as cool as those Smeg fridge-freezers I know you've been looking at (no hard feelings), but you know I've always been there for you. When you came home from a drunken Saturday night, our leftover mac and cheese was ready to comfort you. When you bought that sandwich one day over its expiry date, I had your back and made sure you didn't get food poisoning. Even when there was a powercut and you had to awkwardly use all your candles and fairy lights from your VSCO girl phase to see a single thing, I managed to resurrect myself later with all food left unharmed. That was probably more luck than anything else, but I guess you need a little bit of that in every successful relationship, don't you think?
However, lately I've been seeing a little change in you. You've become a little, dare I say it, emotionally dependent. Don't get me wrong, I like that you fill me with food more often than ever before, but it doesn't feel like I'm actually nurturing you. Some days, you get out the milk for your coffee like any other morning, but I don't seem to get it back until eight coffees later. And when you do and I finally feel a little more complete again, it's suddenly time for lunch. But it's not a proper lunch where you carefully select what I have to offer, and assemble your food on a plate ready for you to indulge in. Instead, you sort of frown and look at me sadly. With disappointment written all over your face, you close me again and decide not to eat at all.
Half an hour later, you check on me again, but what do you expect me to do? I can't just walk to the shops and get you something better. I'm a fridge. Remember? If I had the power to magically make food appear I'd probably be arrested for theft. Meaning, you would be arrested for theft. Because, in case you already forgot, I'm just a fridge.
I know all the signs by now. When you talk to yourself angrily, I know you're about to open me and slam me shut as if you're blaming me for not relieving your emotional distress. When you're working in the kitchen, I know you're already eyeing me up, ready to rob me of something you know you don't really need. What I despise the most, though, is that you still haven't replaced that 1 litre bottle of flat coke yet that's been weighing me down since December. It's almost like you think you're still going to drink it. But you would never do that, right? Of course you wouldn't, it's gross. Please tell me you wouldn't. Hello?
I've stopped thinking that I can't give you enough. It's time for me to realise my own self-worth, and understand the role I play in this relationship. I can't always be here to cure your boredom or emotional discomfort. You can't expect me to help you at all times, when you don't respect me. It's important you start to look after yourself and identify your impulse to check me thirty times a day. What is it that triggers you to abuse me like that all the time? This is not normal behaviour. I'm not your therapist, or some sort of pill that will relieve you of all your stress. I'm just a fridge. And if you ask me, that's more than good enough.