Autobiography of a pillow

Hi my name is Minno. I will forego the details of where I was made and the likes because all autobiographies start like that and I don’t want to follow suit. You know they say my ancestors were used by the rich only at one time and they were found in Ancient Egyptian tombs also. Isn’t it cool to be part of such a lineage? Another Pillow who called herself Yestu was telling me while we were being packed that we would be able to see our ancestors in our dreams if we prayed hard enough. I don’t know if she was right but I sure know that I come across various stories each night. Right now I’m living in a house full of people who do not know what they are doing. They are always screaming during the day and snoring at night. The person who owns me is a girl. She is fairly tall and has an average built. I don’t know her real age because she uses lot of make-up in the morning and funny kind of face packs at night. I don’t get to see her very often because she is never at home. And when she is at home I have to endure agony because she plays music that sounds like someone is being tortured. Even her mother doesn’t like her music because she then starts shouting at the top of her voice. Now what happens is that my owner screams, her mother screams, her music system screams and even I scream out of mental agony. So whenever she is at home playing that unbearable music my neighbouring pillow i.e. Jojo does not talk to me at all. If you think she is better at night, hang on, she can be worse!! She will spend most of her time with her head on me and text away to glory. Sometimes she moves left, sometimes she moves right. And when she is not moving she starts talking to her phone with her elbow on me! How much can a small, sweet pillow such as me take? So I purposely slip beneath her head at times and hide below the bed. After she finishes her conversation she comes looking for me below the bed. It is so scary to see her mask-covered face in the dark. Once I was hiding below her bed and she took really long to come and find me. Meanwhile I made friends with a spider called Shilo. That spider resides beneath her bed. Shilo was telling me that he was bored of spinning his web alone and was glad to meet me whenever I would escape the clutches of my owner. So these days I make it a point to meet Shilo at least once in 2 days. Shilo and I talk about a lot of things. He tells me stories about his daily hardwork and I smile at him with encouragement. I tell Jojo about Shilo too. Yesterday Jojo confessed to me that he likes the music my owner plays. I’m disappointed in him but I guess its ok, all of us have weird tastes. Sometimes I wonder why my owner does not use Jojo at all. Jojo just lies there beautifully decorated but I am the one who has to bear her head every day. Last night I was lying on the bed as usual waiting for my owner to sleep but she did not. I don’t know what had happened to her. She was so quiet for long and then suddenly she started crying! I wonder how humans cry. We pillows are so dry always. I am now wondering if texting makes her cry. In that case humans should not text. I was asking Jojo today morning what is she trying to do when she texts on her phone. Jojo said he did not know. I think I’ll ask Shilo. Maybe he will know…


One thought on “Autobiography of a pillow

Comments are closed.

Website Powered by

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: