I am the most familiar place you know. You come to me every day, maybe not always at the same time, but eventually. I am an old gift from when you were a baby. That blanket or stuffed animal from when you were six. But I'm also about you growing, changing. I'm the computer you got for graduation. You come to me and you use me when you want a break from the world. You type in my address and my familiar home screen pops up. You browse through the selection of stories but eventually come back to what you were watching yesterday. And as the show starts you get lost. The soft murmurs of other people disappear into the voices of the characters. Your blankets and pillows help complete the barrier against the world, the bed a safe haven away from responsibility. And for 20 minutes you aren't a student or a mother or an employee. For a bit you're part of an imaginary world where you laugh and cringe along with these imaginary people. But looking back that's all it is. An imaginary place to waste some of your life. An escape that ends the same every time. So you close me and get up. You go to class or to pick up the kids or whatever you do. But tomorrow you’ll be back to watch another Netflix show.