chapter 2 chair 2 saga
Chapter 2
The IKEA Parking Lot Confrontation: I Wanted Closure, He Wanted Directions
By Chair 2 — Trunk Survivor, Emotional Damage Detector, and GPS of Bullsh*t
In the trunk of a 2009 Polo Vivo.
Wedged between an emergency blanket, an old speaker, and what I’m 90% sure was a “vision board” made entirely of Post-it Notes and regret.
Why?
Because Casper Ghost decided he “needed to return to where things began” for closure.
And by "where things began," he meant IKEA — where I, Chair 2, was adopted into Candz’s home before the nonsense spiral began.
This man wanted to re-sit history.
He said:
“It’ll be healing for both of us.”
I’m a chair, not your inner child, you Swedish meatball.
His Grand Plan
He pulls into the IKEA parking lot like he’s Moses returning to Mount Sinai.
Parks crooked.
Doesn’t lock the car.
Lights a sage stick. With the windows rolled up.
Then he opens the trunk… and begins speaking directly to me.
“You were the only one who never judged me, Chair 2.”
Bro.
I was silent, not supportive.
I didn’t judge you because I legally can’t talk.
But I sure did wobble dramatically every time you lied.
The Scene Unfolds:
He places me — no lie — in front of the sliding glass doors like I’m Simba being introduced to the kingdom.
He sits.
Takes a deep, theatrical breath.
Then starts apologizing… out loud… to a chair.
“I projected a lot of pain onto you. You didn’t deserve that.”
“You reminded me of my mom.”
“I always felt safe in you.”
IN ME?
SIR. I am NOT your emotional support womb.
Meanwhile, in Reality:
- A toddler walked by and asked if this was a play.
- Someone clapped thinking it was performance art.
- A staff member asked if we were filming a new Netflix docuseries called “Chairs & Closure.”
And this man?
Still talking.
Still blaming “the spiritual pressure” for why he ghosted Candz and texted Dani on my cushion.
My Moment
I wobbled.
I creaked.
Then, in one final act of rebellion — I threw myself backwards.
Took him with me.
Flat on the pavement.
Right next to a spilled IKEA hotdog and a coupon for 10% off shelving.
“Chair 2 betrayed me!” he shouted.
No. I liberated myself.
That was the sound of my last f*ck hitting the concrete.
The Escape
Candz pulled up 3 minutes later.
She rolled down the window and said:
“I just came to get my chair. You can keep your closure.”
Iconic.
She picked me up, brushed me off, and we left.
No tears. No explanations. Just 160km/h of freedom and cruise control.Final Words from the Chair Formerly Known as Support:
- If he can’t sit with your boundaries, he doesn’t deserve a seat in your life.
- Closure doesn’t require a parking lot performance.
- If someone talks more to their metaphors than to your actual needs? IKEA is the only place he belongs — in the returns aisle.
