Broken Toy

Broken toy


Yeh I know I have a tendency to talk really fast and long about stupid inconsequential things. But did it ever cross your mind that maybe there was a reason for my mad mans ramblings. Maybe I feel so insecure about myself that I feel if I let silence ring out for more than 60 seconds I will be forgotten and I’m ever so sorry to say that that is one thing I fear more than anything else in this world. Do you remember when you were young? Did you ever see a movie about forgotten toys? That were left to rot, well that film made me think, and I mean properly think, think harder than I ever had in my life, and I empathized so deeply with those toys that I felt there anguish. But how can I expect you to understand this. I thought how it would feel to be forgotten and left alone out in the cold. So yeh maybe I am a little crazy and yeh that’s probably the reason why I don’t shut up, because I think if even one person stops looking at me as the center of attention. I too will be cast out into the cold world and left to be forgotten. So yeh you can view me as a broken toy. Sure I might no be the shiniest or the most fancy, and yeh so I might be ripped and torn but those are wounds gained from love and the knowledge that I was once love enough to be the center of attention. So yeh I wear my rips with pride because each holds a memory that seemed so real to me not so long ago. But despite all this and the feeling of abandonment that constantly fills me. I still stretch out my arms for the world to see and I shout my words so that everyone might know that even though the world has abandoned me, I have not abandoned the world.