Domo
So I finally did it. I finally got rid of that stupid Domo-kun doll I'd been hanging on to since Nakushita-kun gave it to me years ago. Put simply, I sold it to Russ, who said he'd give it to his sister. I needed the money, and well... It seemed quite logical that it should be the first thing to go.
I should feel happy. I should feel light, like a burden's been lifted off my chest. I should be elated that I got rid of the damned thing, and even made some money out of it.
I don't.
I feel upset, like I just threw away something that meant a lot to me. I guess I did, ne? I mean, it was a birthday gift from so long ago after all, and I tend to get very attached to things I've owned for a while, and especially if there are memories and feelings associated with them.
Obviously I got attached to it - it was given to me by someone I considered important back then, and even after he treated me like shit and eventually forgot all about me I still held on to it because it was a reminder of a time I felt like someone wanted me, like the closest I'd ever gotten to having that secondary school romance everyone else seemed to be experiencing.
I sometimes wonder if I'd been wrong to turn him down back then, when he said he liked me. I just felt that 2 weeks was hardly enough time to think you liked someone, especially when you only really saw them once a week.
I do wonder sometimes, though. Would we have worked out? Or would it just have fizzled and died? It's an interesting thought once in a while.
Of course, all those thoughts have been invalid for about 4 years now. And I've finally mustered the courage to give away (or rather sell) the Domo-kun.
I felt incredibly sad, though. I took really good care of it, and it fit perfectly into my hands whenever I held it. To me, it was more than a doll - it was a memory I couldn't bring myself to forget, a chapter I couldn't bring myself to finish, no matter how I knew it was 4 years overdue. It was awkward phone calls and not knowing how to flirt and wondering what he was like in school. It was MSN chats, and statuses that meant more than they should have, and texting during classes, and crying at night because I was so worried for him.
I don't think Russ noticed, but I couldn't help watching as he put it into his bag, and I wanted nothing more than to cry for my 15-year-old self and her naiveté, as well as my 19-year-old self and her inability to let go. I wanted to cry, mostly because I knew that I wasn't anywhere near getting over him just yet, that he would always be a scar that just wouldn't heal because I couldn't bear to let it. I wanted to cry because I regretted giving Russ the doll from the moment I pulled it out of my bag, and I felt ashamed of myself - if he ever talked to me again I'm pretty sure I'd forgive everything, all the hurt and the confusion, in a heartbeat. I wanted to cry because I couldn't understand why I couldn't for the life of me get over him. I still remember his birthday because for one moment in time I wanted to be the first to wish him, and I think I stayed up till midnight to do exactly that. Maybe it never meant anything to him, now that I think about it.
Of course, it's much too late to be thinking about all this. I have work to do, and I have someone to forget.
It'll just be another long while before I can bring myself to sell or give away the other present he got for me for another birthday.
I should feel happy. I should feel light, like a burden's been lifted off my chest. I should be elated that I got rid of the damned thing, and even made some money out of it.
I don't.
I feel upset, like I just threw away something that meant a lot to me. I guess I did, ne? I mean, it was a birthday gift from so long ago after all, and I tend to get very attached to things I've owned for a while, and especially if there are memories and feelings associated with them.
Obviously I got attached to it - it was given to me by someone I considered important back then, and even after he treated me like shit and eventually forgot all about me I still held on to it because it was a reminder of a time I felt like someone wanted me, like the closest I'd ever gotten to having that secondary school romance everyone else seemed to be experiencing.
I sometimes wonder if I'd been wrong to turn him down back then, when he said he liked me. I just felt that 2 weeks was hardly enough time to think you liked someone, especially when you only really saw them once a week.
I do wonder sometimes, though. Would we have worked out? Or would it just have fizzled and died? It's an interesting thought once in a while.
Of course, all those thoughts have been invalid for about 4 years now. And I've finally mustered the courage to give away (or rather sell) the Domo-kun.
I felt incredibly sad, though. I took really good care of it, and it fit perfectly into my hands whenever I held it. To me, it was more than a doll - it was a memory I couldn't bring myself to forget, a chapter I couldn't bring myself to finish, no matter how I knew it was 4 years overdue. It was awkward phone calls and not knowing how to flirt and wondering what he was like in school. It was MSN chats, and statuses that meant more than they should have, and texting during classes, and crying at night because I was so worried for him.
I don't think Russ noticed, but I couldn't help watching as he put it into his bag, and I wanted nothing more than to cry for my 15-year-old self and her naiveté, as well as my 19-year-old self and her inability to let go. I wanted to cry, mostly because I knew that I wasn't anywhere near getting over him just yet, that he would always be a scar that just wouldn't heal because I couldn't bear to let it. I wanted to cry because I regretted giving Russ the doll from the moment I pulled it out of my bag, and I felt ashamed of myself - if he ever talked to me again I'm pretty sure I'd forgive everything, all the hurt and the confusion, in a heartbeat. I wanted to cry because I couldn't understand why I couldn't for the life of me get over him. I still remember his birthday because for one moment in time I wanted to be the first to wish him, and I think I stayed up till midnight to do exactly that. Maybe it never meant anything to him, now that I think about it.
Of course, it's much too late to be thinking about all this. I have work to do, and I have someone to forget.
It'll just be another long while before I can bring myself to sell or give away the other present he got for me for another birthday.
It's not about the doll itself, and I know it -
I could get a hundred more of these and they wouldn't mean a thing to me.
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