Prized Possessions: A Story of Plushies and Applied Misanthropy

Can you believe writing 101’s already over? That means an entire month has gone by. I didn’t even notice, in my mind it’s still Easter.

So I’m being asked about my most priced possession. That’s like being asked what you would rescue from a fire, and honestly if I wake up and the house is burning, the first thing I do is wake Boyfriend, grab my phone and purse, maybe if I remember to grab it the USB that holds a lot of my current school work, and run. Pretty sure my brain is so tuned for survival at that moment that I won’t think about anything but the basics. Two million years of evolution-engineered security protocols, mofos! The better question would be, if your house burned down, what would you miss the most.

Okay, but other than that, what is my most prized possession? Well… my English degree.

Alright, alright, joke’s aside, because I’d trade that thing in for bag of chips and a decent job faster than you can say “Why would you study English?”. Hm, what else? Boyfriend? But it’s kinda frowned upon to refer to people as possessions. So, uh… my health? Nope, not much there. Also too cliché. Well, my computer’s pretty important. It has all my data and it provides me with entertainment while it also allowing me to engage in human contact while being naked and eating Oreos minus the awkwardness.

I could say books, but those are replaceable. So are CDs. So are music files and book files. The good thing about this century is that almost anything is replaceable. Makes it easier to let go when you lose something, you can always get another. Pain in the ass and costs money too, but better than nothing. I know people are forever harping about ebooks not being “real books” (just like “real women” may or may not have curves) but hey, if they’re half the price and you have half a brain to remember charging the damn reader who cares? Reading is reading. Seriously, saying “real books don’t die” is like saying stationary phones are superior because they don’t need charging.

A lot of data on my computer is pretty irreplaceable. I backup everything I write on three different USBs, but still it could be lost. Then again, paper can burn or sustain water damage, and if you chisel your stories into stone a) it takes forever, b) it’s not handy, c) the stone can break, or sink into a river, or the script can just decompose thanks to the elements. No kind of storage is ever save, that’s just something to be expected.

Let’s see, what else? All the photos my grandma left me would be greatly missed, but then again, they’re full of people I don’t know and never will because most of them died before I was born.

Oh, I know! What about my access to the internet so I can share my awkward antics with the world without having to get out of my chair/bed/couch/pillow fort? That’s pretty important.

So there are a few things that I’d be really sad if they were lost, and this is not easy to write. Remember here where I talked about being scared of things happening? This is going right into that territory again. Hope there’s enough wood in the house.

The one material thing I’d care about the most is actually the rather sad looking plush dog I had since I was four. Or about four, I don’t know. It was sort of always there, survived the antics of a child overcompensating for the lack of social connections, multiple washes, and a looong series of hospitalisations.

If anyone feels the overwhelming need to throw up due to this little bout of absolute sappiness do it outside, I just finished cleaning. I’ll explain once you’re back. Or I won’t, depends on my mood.

So for the majority of my life I had more conversations with inanimate objects than people. Actually I think I’m still catching up. I’m willing to talk to anything excepts humans. Shelves, no problem. Chairs. Walls. The food I’m cooking. Kitchen appliances. Electronic devices, even though those talks usually start with “What the hell are you doing?!” When I’m reading a story I’m screaming at the characters. But talking to humans?! That’s just unhygienic! Haven’t we learned anything from history? Isn’t that what we have the internet for? You can’t pass germs through the internet yet.

I mean, there are reasons why I was never keen on people, not even as a child. Germs were one of them, children are like little biological weapons of mass destruction on stubby legs. For another reason, inanimate objects don’t do a lot of shitty things humans do, so obviously inanimate objects are superior company. The door at least didn’t mean to give me a bruise when I forgot to put on my glasses and walked straight into it and I’m sure the wall isn’t in the way on purpose. On the other hand, who in the history of ever said, “Pardon me, good sir, it appears I have walked into your fist”?

Plush dogs of course also have the advantage of being cuddly as hell. So there. I’m keeping my plushies close, my enemies closer, and humans at the other end of the wire. I mean, without the physical aspect people can be pretty alright (okay, some of them are still shitty, but try blocking and ignoring someone in real life, especially when they’re right next to you) Thus it is written and thus it shall bloody be.

Man, this is starting to read like a PSA for misanthropy. “Hating the entire world isn’t normal. But on humans it is. Humans – Not Even Once”. I guess I’ll stop myself here. If anyone needs me, too bad, I’ll be in my blanket fort having a tea party and talking shit about people with my plush dog. Buh-bye.


2 thoughts on “Prized Possessions: A Story of Plushies and Applied Misanthropy

  1. Have you taken mind reading? or do it naturally? Had I been smart enough to think of it, I’d have ranted, too. GREAT stuff, that were it lost (and hopefully being posted online means it really does stay there forever), would be shame.

    Liked by 1 person

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