Just Take Out the Batteries

                                      

Sometimes I feel just like a toy.  One of those toys that kids get that they play with for a few days straight, then they get bored with it and toss it in to the corner.  Every now and then, when there's nothing else to do, the kid gets the toy out, dusts it off, and plays with it for a little while.  But, then it's back in to the corner.  And then eventually, the kid gets so bored with the toy that they decide to get the idea that it would be fun to start pulling the toy apart, breaking off pieces here and there, crippling and mangling the toy until it's almost unrecognizable.

That's what I've felt like, yet the difference between me and that toy?  I have feelings.

I have felt what it's like to be the toy that's played with and enjoyed for a while.  I have felt what it's like to be the toy that has some use when there's nothing else to do.  And I have most definitely felt what it's like to be pulled apart, pieces broken off, and crippling me just for the sake of pure enjoyment.

And just like that toy, no matter what damage is done, it doesn't matter to the kid who the toy belongs to.  

If those toys had feelings, if they could speak, if they could react, it would be a miserable life to live.  They would scream for someone to just remove the batteries, so that they wouldn't have to endure the torture of resentment, being tossed away when something better comes along, being pulled out only when there's nothing better to do, and the sheer pain that comes from the sick pleasure of being broken.

And the worst part is the fact that, if that toy had an ability to feel, they'd tell you that all they want is to make their kid happy.  Bring some pleasure to the life of whoever they belong to.  And that they don't expect to be played with all the time, but they don't like to be forgotten either. 

Unfortunately, I'm not a toy, so I feel every. single. bit of it.

And the worst part is, the more I beg for the torture to stop, the more enjoyable it seems to continue.  

Apparently, it's fun to test my durability.  See just how much I can take before I snap into a million pieces that are impossible to be put back together.  I already feel like I've been glued and duct taped back together too many times to count, and each time some damage is repaired, it makes it a little more difficult for me to perform to my original standards. 

But, I'm not a toy.  I shouldn't be treated as one.  I shouldn't be played with, only serve a purpose when there's nothing better to do, or broken in to pieces out of pure enjoyment.  I'm better than that.  I deserve better than that.  

I definitely don't mind being called upon when someone wants to spend time with me, but what about when I want to spend time with them?  Why should my feelings and desires be less important?  Why  should I have to sit around waiting for the shots to be called?  How is it fair that I do so much to make others happy when they get so much pleasure from my pain?

It's not fair.  It's not right.  

I am not a toy, but I still have delicate pieces.  Pieces that once they are broken, are dang near impossible to repair.  Pieces that no amount of glue or duct tape could ever fix.  And as much as I would love it, I have no batteries that can be taken out to spare me from the pain that I endure.  

Yet, just like a toy, I put up with it.  I cling to the hope that I'll be played with, that someone will enjoy spending time with me, waiting around in the corner hoping that today will be the day that my kid gets bored enough to put me to some use.  

And all I can say is why?

Why treat me that way?  What did I do to deserve it?  Why get so much pleasure from my pain, when all I do is try and make you happy?  Why try and break me? 

When all I do is try and give you comfort, happiness, and love.. that is the thanks that I get.  

The sad part is, there are others out there that wouldn't treat me that way.  They wouldn't do what is being done to me.  They would give their right arm to show me what I'm trying to show someone else. Yet, I put up with it.  I let it to continue.  I allow myself to be played with, just like a toy.  

Call me stupid, call me crazy... but also call me loyal.  Because I don't know many people who would put up with it.. yet I do.  No matter what, I still sit in that corner hoping and waiting for some attention.  No matter what, I swallow away the pain that comes from the torture.  No matter what, I continue to try and bring some happiness even when I feel so damaged.

Because in my twisted head, I hope and pray that one day.... one day... when all the other toys have found a new owner, or have finally broken from their own torture, I will still be sitting in that corner, ready to play, ready to be there.  And then you will finally realize what I meant by ALWAYS. I will always be the one there for you, through good times and bad, when everyone else has turned their back on you or given up... I will still be there.  Waiting.

When you least expect it, I'll be the toy you pull out of the box and realize that you've had me since you were a kid, you'll remember the good times and the bad, the memories we made together, and then... maybe then... you'll realize how I always stood by you, was there for you, and deserves to be there with you again.

Good things come to those who wait, huh?

I guess we'll just have to wait and see.