Couch Cushion Confessions

There’s something oddly personal about what ends up between the couch cushions.

Loose change. A receipt for something you meant to return. That button you swore you lost at the laundromat. And, if you’re lucky, a pen that still works.

It’s not just clutter. It’s a quiet archive of ordinary moments that didn’t seem important at the time. Things we dropped without noticing. Things we meant to come back for. Things that slipped through while we were mid-conversation, mid-crisis, or mid-nap.

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I’ve found thoughts there too. Unfinished ones. The kind that settled while I wasn’t paying attention. A sentence I abandoned halfway through. A memory I tucked away until I had time to feel it.

Do you ever find yourself uncovering things you didn’t know you’d buried?

We think of “cleaning out the couch” as a chore. But sometimes, it feels more like sorting through a low-stakes time capsule. A reminder that even in stillness, even in soft places—we’re always dropping pieces of ourselves. And occasionally, when we dig just right, we find something worth keeping.

—Everett

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