At first, there was nothing.  Apart from glittering fireflies occasionally passing by and fine dust gently settling on my arm, that is, until that night, in which she stumbled into my life. She opened up an old rusty window and allowed the sunlight to flood over me gracefully.

I lie on her bed, observing her enigmatic face as she recounts exciting stories. Adventures of taming unicorns and brave confrontations with an overlord of the fox.

She brought me over to the mystified rainbow town, where not a single tear was ever shed and fairies roamed around gleefully to heal anybody who was hurt. She of course, was the fairest fairy of all.

When she was feeling over the moon, she would be jumping around the room. I wanted to give her the greatest hug and tell her that she deserved it. I wanted to let her know how happy and super proud I was of her. But I could only stare at her each time, expressionless, unable to convey the emotions deep inside me.

“Thank you,” she’d say to me with the brightest smile before turning away and leaving me in agony.

I hate myself for always not telling her how I feel.

That time when she raged over movie invites to “The Cat Movie” from someone creepy, I couldn’t stand up to fight for her. And that time when a boy confessed his love for her and she eventually yielded to him, I could only cry a river behind the locked doors of my room. When she finally became engaged to someone she truly loved, I could not give her my sincere blessings. Even when she gave birth to twins, I could not be there by here side to tell her that I felt she would make a good mother to her kids.

We met for the very last time one day in autumn. The leaves from the trees were falling lazily down to the ground. She held my hands passionately, with eyes that conveyed a thousands words. It was so mysterious yet so profound.

“Mommy what are you doing? We need to go!” Her daughter yelled.

“Oh you can’t wait to move away to the new house, can you…give me a sec sweetheart, mom needs to handle some final stuff.”

She looked at me one last time as tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. She whispered a last “goodbye”.

I pictured the first day we had met, some 20 years ago and as the melancholy built up inside me, I started to smile.

It was a first ever in my experience as a doll. I don’t know how it happened or how it was even possible but I felt a sense of relief and thankfulness that I managed to let it happen.

“Thank you…for everything…” She said, smiling back at me. She wasn’t holding back tears anymore as she gently laid me inside a box.

As she sealed it, there was nothing again.

A strand of her hair fell onto my side and it reminded me of that night she picked me up from a blind alley and held me close to her tightly.

It was the same night an angel had gifted a soul into a doll.

I wish I could tell her, how she will always be the love of my life, how the sunlight springs growth of happiness within me and illuminates every corner of my bland soul.

Just by her holy presence.

But what can I do?

I’m just a fucking doll.

Photo by Peter Lam CH on Unsplash