It’s always better to feel something rather than nothing. Otherwise, you are empty which makes you not human. People will abandon you if you can’t feel. Dolls don’t feel. They are nothing but plastic skeletons made by the millions in factories every week. Eventually, everyone stops caring about their dolls, and they get put into storage to rot, lost in oblivion. Feeling is imperative; it is the single most important thing in life. I must always feel, or I, too, will be nothing more than a doll that everyone gets bored with and abandons. I don’t want to be forgotten.

I drove to school, listening to some pop song with a catchy beat. I was trying to relax because I was going to ask him to the dance. I was sure he was going to agree. We had been circling each other for a while now, and I believed that it was time to take the next step.
I was nervous and excited as I parked next to him. He always waited for me. As I grabbed my bag from the passenger seat, he smiled at me. My heart skipped a beat, and I grinned back. Red leaves rained around us as we walked into the school, speaking of tests and television shows.
I was about to pop the question, when the bell rang. We said our goodbyes, and I strolled to my first class. The chances of me seeing him after school were to my favor; I would ask him then. I was giddy with the thought of going with him to the dance. I daydreamed of what it would be like. What will my parents think of him? Where would we go to eat? Would he kiss me at the end of the night? I smiled widely at the thought.
“There’s no way he’ll say no,” my friends assured me at lunch, “You guys are best friends, only more!”
I was so happy. I found him after school waiting by the door. I greeted him cheerfully as we exited the building. My heart thumped in my chest as we neared our cars. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, and my palms perspired. I pulled my coat tighter around myself. He was telling me about an incident that happened during his lunch when I put my hand on his chest, stopping him, and asked what he was doing on Saturday.
He looked at me curiously and replied, “Nothing. Why?”
I glanced at my shoes nervously before asking him if he wanted to be my date to the dance.
His eyes widened in shock before softening. I glimpsed up at him in nervous excitement. I knew my parents would love him. My friends were planning to go to the sushi place downtown. I wanted him to walk me up to the door at the end of the night, and kiss me like they do in the movies.
He sighed and replied, “I’m sorry, but I really don’t see you that way.” My grin melted away, and I looked up at him in horrified confusion.
He continued, “I had no idea that you liked me like that! I’m sorry.” He was silent for a few moments before saying, “You’re my best friend, man, and I think it’s best if it stays that way.”
My eyes were soft; my mouth ajar. Unable him in the eye any longer, I gazed at the parking lot ground. I apologized for my forwardness and stepped into my car. As the car hummed to life, I turned to get one last glimpse at him, but he was already driving away.
Unable to produce any other emotion, I went into a state of indifference. I pulled out of the parking lot and drove home.
Emotionally incapable of doing anything else, I walked up the stairs to reach my room where I could crawl into my bed, and sleep off the pain. Before I arrived there, however, a dusty dollhouse in my sister’s bedroom caught my eye. I stared at it for a few minutes before dropping my bag and yanking it from the rubble. I carried it into my room where I stared at it indifferently for a few minutes before opening it up; it looked as though a storm had blown through it. The kitchen was in careless disarray, leaking over into the living room where dust enveloped the tiny sofas and coffee tables. The beds were turned over, and the wardrobes were missing. After taking in the chaos, I started my renovation.
I spent hours dusting and resurrecting my delicate house. My mother knocked on my door once, letting me know that dinner was ready, but I ignored her. I wanted the doll family to have a place to live that matched the content expressions on their faces; I would not stop until it was complete.
I finished my project late at night. After giving it one last inspection, I crawled to my bed, and let my eyes close shut.
That night, I dreamt that I lived in the doll house with the plastic family. They did not say a word nor make a sound. The whole house was silent. The synthetic people always had an eerie smile on their faces. They were never sad or happy; always content and indifferent, uncaring of those around them. They went through all the motions of being a happy human family, but they failed at it terribly. They were too perfect. No one said anything, and there was no conflict. I did not want to be like those dolls. In the dream, I was incapable of producing a smile or a frown. I simply sat at the dinner table, staring at the plastic food with a small smile on my face.
I woke with a start to the sound of my screeching alarm clock. I stared at it before slamming my fist on the OFF button. I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower. I hardly felt the water trickle down my body.
When I was done, I wiped the steam from the mirror and looked at myself. My eyes were dull, and my skin was blotchy; my hair hung limp, sticking to my face. But, there was the eeriest grin plastered on my face. My breath started to quicken as I gazed at my apathetic eyes. My expression looked like the dolls’. I was overcome with crippling anxiety. I did not want to be trapped in this fossilized character. I wanted to feel. I panicked as I glanced around the bathroom for something to calm me. My eyes locked on the corner of the counter.
I fell to my knees and bashed my head against the corner over and over again. As I felt the blissful pain, I beamed. I promised myself that I would never be like those dolls. I would not be forgotten. I promised to always cry and laugh, love and hate. I yearned to feel everything this world had to offer. After all, a kiss with a fist is better than none. I wanted to feel the bliss of love and the pain of death. Of course, death always did come too soon.
I threw my head against the counter corner one last time before everything faded to black.

My dark oblivion was interrupted by a bright light blaring down at me. As my eyes adjusted, I felt someone lift me into the air. They turned me this way and that, but I could not stop them. My limbs laid straight and useless at my sides as this person examined me. Finally, they held me to their face. I looked straight into the eyes of a young, over-sized girl.
A wide grin spread over the girl’s face as she jumped up and down squealing, “Thank you, Mommy! Thank you so much!”
A colossal woman approached the girl from behind and placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “You’re welcome,” the woman replied. “Happy birthday!”
The girl bent both of my legs so that they sat at perpendicular from my torso and placed me on a wooden chair at a dining table. She ran off for a few moments before returning with a plastic woman. She sat this woman in the chair opposite me and announced that we were Mommy and Daddy. My face showed contented acceptance while my mind screamed. I tried to thrash my limbs, but it was too no avail. I stared at Mommy, and she stared back at me.

For the first time, I wished that I was apathetic.