All Dolled Up With Nothing to Write

What do you write about when you have nothing to write about?

I remember as a kid having my favorite toy. 

When guests would come over, I'd grab that favorite toy and present it proudly. This is my toy, look, it represents what I feel about myself as a kid, and I'm proud of it. 

Of course (well, maybe) the adult never understood all the underlying connotations the toy represented.

That toy would never get used the way I wanted to use it, but I liked it. Loved it. Something about it, as if I could see into the future and all was okay, it was an alright place. 

It embodied something about myself, gave me a brief window into my adult years of thought. 

Yeah yeah, it was just a toy, I know. 

I would look at it and want to play with it, but never have the chance. And when I did it didn't live up to what I thought it would. Of course eventually the yearning fizzled out and new toys were had. 

But that toy was remembered, for the most part. 

I guess just having it was the great thing, knowing it was there. But I should have enjoyed it instead of revered it. 

I should have picked it up and just used it and maybe I would have gotten a deeper understanding of what it represented, instead of thinking perhaps I wasn't worthy to play with it, something ahead of my time. 

The time is now. 

And this blog post is done. 



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