The Thrown Away Ragdoll

Awhile ago I wrote about my emotional attachment to a boy. I was a ragdoll. This is what I said:

I thought I had it all… my love had everything I could ever ask for: talent, intelligence, outgoing personality, drive, love, cleanliness, perfection, and faith. But it got lost… maybe along side of the road or down the river… but it is lost. I can no longer look at the clouds and not think of him and I. I cant watch the sunset and not cry. I cant sleep when he is not there. But he expects me to move on. How can so much love be tossed around like a rag doll without any strings? I have been torn apart, stretched out, and resewn over and over again. But after all that work, I still managed to be forgotten. Sometimes I wish I had never been loved. Maybe I hadn’t been. Maybe he was just playing with my strings till they all wore out. Maybe he just wanted the comfort of having something there even if it was a rag doll. Im cut. Im cut into several pieces of cloth. Im thrown everywhere. Im waiting to be put back together. But what if I am just cut more and more? What if I get cut so much I cannot be put back together? I thought he was the one. I still feel that way, but he has grown up and is no longer playing with rag dolls. And that is all I am. A used rag doll. My stitches no longer hold. My eyers no longer hold color, only clarity and tears. My hair is strewn about. No placement just beautiful chaos. And he continues to play with the strings. He laughs as he plays but every once in awhile you see a tear in his eye. Is it a tear of happiness, madness, or sadness? Im only a rag doll, I don’t have the answers. Only he who is in control does. He continues to play, obsessed with the control. When he is out of control or if his rag doll falls apart he becomes angry. He cannot handle the chaos. He cannot handle the lack of control. He controls the strings not the rag doll. But the rag doll loves him, she loves him because she feels safe. As he tore her apart she felt safe. She felt thrown but systematically thrown. She knew he loved her, but he just loved himself more. He couldn’t be out of control. That is what he feared. To admit he loved playing with his rag doll. He couldn’t stand the thought of having her forever and being laughed at. So the rag doll sits alone, untouched, and alone. He will never pick her up again no matter how much she wants him to love her. She gets buried in the closet. And he forgets about her. Thats how the story of the rag doll goes right? I wish the story would change. Will he allow it to change?

But you know what. He did not forget the rag doll. No instead he threw her in front of a car. He thought about her and became disgusted. He thought about her and hated the last two years of his life. But then his thoughts changed around October 23. WHY!? Don’t crush me, don’t hurt me, but most importantly do not love me BOY. Do not love me! And if you do, its going to be a screwed up love, know that. If you can be that screwed up boy who still wants to play with his rag doll, then get her from the street and LOVE HER.

And do you know what my love had? He had me! ME! this perfect obedient ragdoll! But it wasn’t good enough. You know what else he had and still does? He has a self-centered philosophy. One that puts up a wall with a tiny, TINY hole in it for people to try to squirm their way through! Well guess what world, I can squirm. I am a worn out ragdoll with no solid stitches. My seems are ripped, my hair is everywhere, and for this yes I CAN SQUIRM! And the more I squirm the more I grow, and when I grow the hole grows. Yah its getting bigger. I love this self-centered lonely boy, and his ragdoll needs him! So little boy, hold your ragdoll!

And thus begins a new story of the ragdoll.