We are so over

Dear IKEA,

This is hard for me to write, since we haven't been together all that long. I had admired you for so long from afar, ever since you crossed the Atlantic a few years ago from those Swedish shores.  My friends told me how wonderful you were, and there you were in my host families house. My host mother was almost embarrassed at how much you were a part of their lives.

But IKEA, as quickly as we started, we are so over.

I passed you every day in Atlanta on my way to school, just before the sleep deprivation would lull me to sleep for the next 20 minutes, thinking of pleasant things like my new place in Nashville instead of the children that awaited me. I finally worked up the courage to go see you (bringing a friend along for the first time to make sure I had her approval) and that was it, I had to have you. I'd flirted with the idea of other furniture, like Target, Walmart, and things on Craigslist, but I kept coming back to you.

It was rough at the beginning, and not as easygoing as I had hoped-- that you didn't want to fit in my car should have been a sign that you didn't fit in my life. But when there's a will, there's a way, and you ended up tucked in the UHaul with other TFAers furniture to Nashville.

Perhaps I shouldn't have moved so quickly to get you into my bedroom. I unwrapped everything so quickly and excitedly and then....had no idea what to do. It was so new, different, and damn confusing. That piece is supposed to go where? That can't possibly fit! What the heck is that supposed to do??

But finally, after 8 hours, punctuated with different periods of separation, it felt right. Well, almost. I'd misjudged one piece of you and unlike what they say, you can't always go back. I tried to change you, making holes where I needed them to be and ignoring the others that just didn't seem as important. Now I know I can never fill those holes.

So, IKEA, we're done. You look smooth and classic on the outside, but in the end, you're really just cheap. And for me, that's not enough. I can't spend anymore time on you, trying to make it work, all the while wanting to throw my screwdriver at your linguistically ambiguous directions. I confess as well -- I went and got some Target furniture when I couldn't deal with you anymore during one of our separations. That bookcase in the corner? We fit together in 20 minutes.

This is a little awkward now, since we're living together and all, but I promise I won't kick you out. Now that you're moved in, I guess you might as well stay.

Sincerely,

Ms. A