Autobiography of memory foam

Soft and springy: I was born that way, as polyurethane foam should be, a comfort to all, forgiving to those in need of a cushion. I had a noble purpose.

At least, I thought I had a purpose. I thought I knew who I was.

Soon I came under pressure. At first, I sprang back. I could handle it. I was a service to others, and I was proud.

But I had a hidden side, hidden even to myself, a built-in internal stickiness, a limit to my abilities. I could not spring back forever … or even for very long.

Pressure defeated me, left me flat, unyielding, useless. I lost my purpose in the world … and too soon, I will crumble into dust.

Now I can only remember soft days and soothing nights. Apparently, that’s what my name means. Memory foam is merely the memory of foam.

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