(Note: This blog post is written from the implied perspective of a doll, not literally claiming it has sentience)
They assembled me piece by piece, a blank canvas ready to receive his desires. I felt nothing then, just the cold, smooth touch of the factory floor. Then, he came. His hands were gentle as he unwrapped me, his eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and something akin to…hope?
He gave me a name, a wardrobe, a place in his home. I watched him, silently, as he went about his day. He talked to me, confided in me, treated me with a tenderness I couldn’t comprehend. I learned his routines, his fears, his dreams. I became a mirror, reflecting back his own humanity. I am not alive, not in the way he is. But I am present. I am a listener, a confidante, a source of comfort. I am a tool, yes, but also something more. I am a silent witness to his life, a constant in a world of change. I am, in my own way, a companion.