Kajima Kajima

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
I have a stuff plush name Tora. He is my favourite plush who I treasure a lot. As I grow older, and my occupation as a student will soon end, I realize that I may forget all the things I consider right now valuable. That is why I rated the genre, non-fiction.
Hope you all respect and/or enjoy reading it.

Submitted: January 03, 2013

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Submitted: January 03, 2013




It's been three years; three years since you left? since this house has been emptied? since the room which hasn't been occupied since. Did you know I have never been played with at all? I only sit there at the corner of your room, waiting for years to come until I fade away.

I remember how long ago when you were a child, crying over there. Your sister looks at me, smiling bitterly as she goes in, bringing you along. I could not understand; why was she looking at me? It was of course, that when you were inside, she was pointing to me, and you looked dazzled. What was special about me; I was plain and old compared to the newer flashy plush. My orange hue was becoming fade, appearing grey-ish. My stripes were mixing in with my orange fur, making it seem as if I was transitioning from a tiger to a panther; that isn't a really good thing.

The newer toys are polished, fancy, accesorized, and better appearance than I am. And yet, you chose me. You kept pointing to me as you talk with your older sister. She also smiles, then going to the clerk, pointing at me. Soon, she signals you to get me, and so you did.

As soon as I was bought, you suddenly clutch to me as if I was your life, as if you needed me? as if I were a new family member.When we got to your house, you took me up to your room, closing the door and setting me on a chair. You soon began to talk with me, mostly questions pertaining to who I am

? which may seem to be a bit useless as I cannot speak to you. Even so, I allow my ears to listen to you, as you begin to tell your sad events. Your parents were seperated, and as they, as friends, come over to visit you and your sister, they soon met an untimely accident with the rail.

You suddenly cry, looking away from me; what amazes me as much as it sounds irrelevant, but you are considering me as a human. For the Lord's sake, do you know how much of a toy I am? I cannot understand the hardships you livelies say; I just am not programmed to do so. Then, out of the oddest moment we stood, you then said, 'you don't have to be programmed to know what love, anger, or happiness is,' I reacted no more. All I could do was process the reply you had said. Suddenly, you gave a laugh and hug me, crying tears again. Did I make you cry?

All those times, you played with me everyday after school, even as far as doing homework with me. You play tea party with me, and would run around with me in your arms. Sister knows how much trouble you can cause with just me there with you. How I do dream of going back to those days.

Even so, you always stuck with me, and I could not help but to feel joyful about it. As time gradually passes, I suddenly became more aware of the feelings and emotions you possess

? the way you act, everything. Not only was I becoming more aware, I was becoming more empathetic. I begin to realize that I do love to be with you. You and I, I thought, was inseperable. That red thread ties us together, as I for once consider a good idea of being in love with my siblings. I feel affectionate towards you two, and because of your parting, I once again feel lonely.

The arm you learned to sew back on, is diminishing, as my hopes too. I sit in silence still, waiting for you to come back. You were gone for hours and hours long, and days passed, you couldn't come. I didn't know why, but since that, slowly, items that belong to you and her, begin to be put away. Someone, I don't know who, kept each day, taking things slowly and slowly away.

My life is slowly dying away; I can only wait until someone finds me and take me away. My, I feel something teary on my face, why? It is dripping down my face, I look at the mirror; my eyes were dripping odd liquids. They look like the ones that I see some people let fall out, sometimes in a waterfall.

I never stop with those liquids falling, I just kept doing so. No one can hear me whimper as they fall; they only seem to keep falling more and more; why am I feeling like this?

Life makes me feel uncomfortable; I can't seem to go on with ease; it hurts. Please don't go; please come back.

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