I don't talk to them.
I don't believe that they have adventures when I am gone.
But I move them.
I feel that their lives are boring because they're forced to stare at the same section of the room. I think it's cruel to make them look at the ceiling or leave them in positions that are obviously uncomfortable. I don't believe in ghosts. I'm not writing this to be cute. I want you to know that I am a mentally healthy adult who habitually projects life onto stuffed animals.
2 comments:
I don't have any stuffed animals where I live now, but I am absolutely this way with the ones in my childhood bedroom when I'm at home. Empathy taken to an unhealthy extreme? :)
I found mine under some boxes in my closet, they were all crushed and oddly pressed, I laughed aloud.
However I do keep my bears (who were never my favorite until I was older) sitting on my dresser. But I don't move them for fear of their boredom, I just don't crush them with closet junk.
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