Stress Ball Angst, for asqueezeme

I sit here, day after day, watching you work. Watching you eat, surf Reddit, I know you click that NSFW link anyways. You naughty individual, you. No, I am not a creep. I am simply your stress ball. You know? That little smiley face in the corner of your desk that has “Hey! Squeeze me!” printed across my forehead? Yep, that guy.

How you doin? Been a while. I guess the internet replaced me, huh? Figures, I mean, it’s not like I ever did much anyways. I entertain your daughter when you bring her to work though!
Boy did that come out wrong.

Anyways, moving right along! I’ve seen you progress through the company, and no matter which office you go into, you bring me along? Why is that? You never use me, you never need me. But here I am, destined to spend the rest of my bloody existence sitting on your desk watching memos go out, files get processed, and spreadsheets filled out. What you do doesn’t look to intereting, to be perfectly honest. But then again, neither does what I do. I guess I sort of am little more than a failure, a mind trick really, you reach for me thinking that I’m going to make you feel relieved. But I really don’t, you only trick yourself into thinking that I do. I used to be really common, did you know that? I know, who would have figured. But no longer, now a days I just sit here. At least your receptionist is attractive, that eases the loneliness I suppose. You know what you should do? This is a great idea, hear me out on this one, is get another stress ball. Preferably one of the cute pink ones designed for ladies? Yeah, that would be awesome.

But of course, you don’t listen to me. You never listen to me. You pretend not to hear my loneliness and neglect while you stare at that rage comic, but I know you do. I know you know that I miss being held in your hand, and that I miss being needed. You know I miss you.

For asqueezeme.