#i want to word stuff better but its nearly four am and im oddly sad

[watch-out-it-bites]

I love dolls. I always have. There's something to be adored about little figurines, plushies, motionless objects that you give your own warmth to. I love dolls and how they can be changed so easily, how, yes they can be ugly. But who cares because in the ugliness you can. I dunno. There's still love in there. Someone will love it, and it can't be hurt.

I wish I was a doll. It would be nice to have joints, fabric, strings, whatever, and not need to make decisions, I could rip and tear and have no say. I could be as dirty as I am now and boom. Someone could throw me in a washing machine or take care and fix up all those bad parts. Or they could just be there, be emphasized, I don't know. Nobody can truly hate dolls, There's always a box I could stay in, and nobody would care. I could be forgotten to time and not have to worry. Why would dolls need to worry about anything.

That makes me think of doll customizers. The ones that rip off faces to replace them with the little clay ones or other faces, I feel like it's a lot less aggressive than it seems. It's a bit comforting, taking your old identity and throwing it out for the new, nicer one. Like. How do I say it? It feels kind. Cutting out your old parts, creating you a new face, a new you. And there'd be no reason to fuss because, again, you're just a doll. Why would you be sad about that? Or mad? It's your intended purpose, to be played with, altered, for them to maybe see a character, friend, even see them in you. There's no reason for misery when you're a doll. Siigh :-)

plushies are nice too. I like hugging them.

This Ramble probably makes Zero Sense but. It does to mmeee:-)