I’ve been trying and failing to do my homework for the past 4 hours now, and I’ve been wanting to blog like crazy so this is what I’m going to do instead. I’m already failing this stupid assignment anyway, so what another five minutes of putting it off?

I watched Toy Story 3 today. I came home and saw that it was on Netflix and had to watch it. I think the Toy Story films are one of the few Disney movies that make me cry. But it’s a Pixar film so of course it’s good. Pixar always does good stuff. But I watched it and pretty much cried for the last half hour. There’s a reason I can’t watch those movies in front of other people lol. It’s made me sit and think about my life since I watched it though. I always feel horribly guilty about keeping all my old toys locked up in the attic. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get rid of them. I’ll save them, probably in those boxes untouched for years and years. But I’ve got no more play in me. My creativity has all gone. I’m just some cold empty shell with no kid in me anymore. I feel like anyway. And the worst part is that I can’t remember any of the names of my toys. I’m sure I named them. I couldn’t tell you what I used to do with them either.

That’s one thing I do regret about my childhood. There were a few short years of really being a kid, but they were when I was so little I don’t remember them too much. We moved when I was six and then my life became a constant ferry ride. We were always going back and forth between my parents. I wish my dad would’ve not been so selfish and just said, you know, the kids deserve to have a regular childhood. They should get to live at home. Not in the car between houses. Toys weren’t transported back and forth because they were too easily forgettable. I did have a few beanie babies. I still have some of them. A turtle, walrus, peacock, police bear, sea horse, kangaroo, rhino, deer, duck, and a fish. And a silly stuffed pink octopus. And my blue tree frog! And the tadpole that you turn inside out so it become a frog. And my blue ringed octopus from the Zoo. I feel like I’m forgetting some but those were the main ones I think. But I don’t remember setting them all out and playing with them. I mean I do a little, but not the huge skirmishes like in Toy Story. I look back on my childhood and regret it. I wish someone had sat down and made me play with my toys. Made me be a real kid.

I know there’s something off about me. I’m not quiet so normal. I spend my day at home, alone. Always. That’s all I do. But I feel guilty doing anything else. I can’t leave my dogs home alone. I’m the only one who gives them any bit of attention. And even then I really don’t give them as much as they deserve.

After the movie I came upstairs, still crying of course, and got out my pink octopus. He was probably one of my most played with toys. He’s the perfect hand sized toy. I got him on an island I think. Though which I can’t remember. I just held him. God I’m so silly. Blogging about holding some silly object with no life in it at all. I put him away and that was that. And then I grabbed my blanket and my pillow and curled up on the floor with my dogs for a nap. Buttercup curled up next to me. Sam got up and left of course. He’s not much for snuggling. He did sit next to me on the ground for a while though. Silly old thing.

What am I going to do with my life? The entire world is out there but I don’t want to face it. There’s so much to see and do, but I don’t want to leave behind the things I love most. I know I’ll be fine once I’m out on my own, but I’ll feel horribly guilty about my dogs. And I can’t take them away from my mom. The house will be empty once I’m gone. My sister’s never home really. I suppose it’s empty now though isn’t it. I’m always home, but I’m not really alive. I’ve- well lost is the only word I can think of. I’ve lost something inside myself. The spark that made me loud and boisterous and full of energy. It’s gone. I’m quiet and reserved and blank faced for the most part. My laugh is silent, my eyes dull. I’ve gone from myself. I spend most of my time trying to pin point the time I changed, but I’ve yet to find the specific moment or reason. I hope this is just a teenage phase. I can live the rest of my life like this though. That’s the good thing about being this way. I don’t need constant stimulation from the outside world. Then again, I’m not really doing anything when I’m alone, so maybe I do. *sigh* I need to find a project or calling or something. I need a reason to live.