Write a story about yourself from the perspective of an object, thing, animal, or another person.
There she goes again, walking right past the door as if she doesn’t even know I’m in here. Oh, she knows, she just doesn’t want to think about me. Sure, sometimes she brings in the four legged one, clips her to the leash, and lets her go through her paces, but deep down she knows that she’s the one I want.
I didn’t always live this life, relegated to a side bedroom, spending hours watching a teenager lounge around playing video games. Do you know how hard that is? Having the company but sitting idle? If only he would get off that couch and turn me on. He could do it, it wouldn’t have to be her. But deep down, she’s the one I really want.
Every now and then, almost as a tease, she does come see me. She brings her music of choice, and her refreshment. She sets up the fan so that it’s blowing just right, and she makes a note of the time. Then, with deliberation and determination, she climbs aboard. Oh, how I love this time. That rush as she begins, slowly at first, then with increased speed and intensity, is impossible to adequately describe. We begin to move together, to get into a groove. The music helps us as we find our rhythm. This is what I was made for. This is what I long for. But, as always, it ends too soon, and again I’m left waiting, alone.
BulgingButtons 