Dear Owner

A letter from the stuffed animal underneath your bed.

— 

You have not picked me up in over three years. 

I sit on the carpeted floor, in the hostile cold. My eyes remain forever open as I recall a time where I knew warmth. That time has long since faded away into nothingness. My world has turned ashen and grey. The only indicator of passing time is the growing centimeter of dust forever falling over every part of me. I fear I may remain here for the rest of eternity. I fear I will fade away, turn obsolete, and become absolutely nothing. 

You no longer remember me. Even though every single one of our interactions has been burned into my empty head, I am forgotten. Once, I had been prized: clutched tightly as you danced around the house and embraced just as closely late at night. I was the sole confidant of your dreams. Now I am nothing and no one, and the only dream I have is my own. I dream of turning back time. 

Dear Owner, come back to me again. Please. I miss you. 

It was a long time ago, before you had found me, but my greatest fear had once been  being unlovable. Is not to be loved the sole purpose of life? This was the purpose of the thousands of other look-alikes I had grown up perched beside. I recall them now, visions of pristine fluff and fabrics scraping against me. I remember sitting on the small wooden shelf, filled with hope and terror. What if no one ever chose me? 

That is when I met you. To this day, I have not found a reason as to why you chose me out of such a large collection of others. Perhaps I was simply lucky. I remember the utter joy in your eyes as you grabbed me off of the shelf. I was yours. You were mine. You loved me undoubtedly, unconditionally, and always without hesitation.

I wonder, what has changed? You promised me forever. The only forever I have received is the forever I lie wiring in now. You think I cannot see, hear, or understand. You think I cannot feel. You are wrong. There is nothing I have ever felt more deeply than your absence. 

I am sure that if my button eyes were capable of tears, I would drown. I watch as the device you hold in your hands takes my place. I have not moved an inch in eternity, but you fall farther and farther away from me with every passing second. 

The blanket of dust over me continues to grow, encasing me in its mocking filth. I watch you from where you have tossed me underneath the bed, wondering if my new coat will grow thick enough to warm me as you once did.