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My vehicle is INFP, 9w8. Vroom vroom!!
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The point of the game is to exercise your empathetic juices by really putting yourself into the persona of random, everyday objects!

It's your time to be celebrated for your creativity and bleeding heart, you sensitive person, you!!

Make us laugh,
Make us cry.
Make us all identify!

The topic for the first poster is: a rain puddle on a playground

Now you post something(long or short, whatever you'd like) about what it's like to be "a rain puddle on the playground." How do you feel? What are your likes and dislikes? Who is your friend? What are your hopes and dreams??

After that, name a random thing for the next poster to empathize with!

~~~
The rules again:
1. Empathize with the above-poster's topic.
2. Choose a new object for the next person to empathize with.

It can be as ridiculous as you want it to be!
 

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I am a rain puddle on a playground. The wood chips tell me that there are often so many children here. Not when it rains, though, the teachers don't let them out when it's too wet. I suppose if I hang in here long enough once the rain stops, if I don't completely evaporate and seep into the soil too soon, some child might come out and find me. I think I'd love to be jumped in. Imagine little yellow rain boots, rushing down from a gray cloud background, shattering me to fly in glistening droplets in all directions. I'd be happy to lose my form like that.


Next topic: a purse
 

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Sometimes I feel really weighed down by a lot of... junk. I wish I was emptied more often. It's such a relief when I am and then I don't have to worry about burdening my Shoulder any longer. Those are not fun days. How many expired coupons and anti-bacterial gels does one really need? They are no fun to play with. Give me a solid compact any day of the week but talking to an expired coupon is almost as bad as talking to a wall. They're so 2 dimensional and it just gets old fast.

My best friend is probably Wallet but I miss my last Wallet. She got stolen years ago and I've never been able to cope since. The new Wallet has been decent. I won't lie. But she can never replace the friendship I had with that other Wallet. We used to talk all the time about how we make the perfect team. I kept Wallet protected all those years and now it feels like it was all for nothing. The new Wallet is nice but she's also kind of competitive. She thinks she's cuter than me despite never being seen. She has no proof of her charms (other than being seen in a store a few times) but I have a lot more exposure, popularity and experience and yet...I wish we could trade places. How ironic, right?

Since I am a particularly glitzy purse, I get attention wherever I go. It's rare that I don't get a compliment whenever my Shoulder takes me out. We like going places together but I confess - the majority of the time I'm left hanging on a hook in the closet. I feel awfully used. Don't get me wrong, being used is just the greatest. However, I wish my Shoulder would understand that I get bored too and I get lonely too without the presence and warmth of a comforting Shoulder to hold me. I long to wrap my straps around one forever!

And yet...there are secret compartments to me that my Shoulder seems oblivious to. *sigh* Perhaps isolation is better, after all.

One time my Shoulder carelessly left me on the floor and a dog chewed off one of my rhinestones. It hurt like a bitch. Don't they all know I'm defenseless? No one seems to notice my pain no matter how tiny it seems. And no one seemed to notice that I had lost a vital piece of myself. So long as I am still pretty that is all that matters. I get compliments just the same after that and yet, my pain remains. Sometimes I feel like I am part of some twisted game that I have resigned myself to. But I admit, it feels good to be the favored purse rather than one who hardly ever sees the light of day! *sigh* I guess I can't complain.
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Next topic: a Christmas tree
 

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A Christmas tree

I wait, I wait, and I wait and I listen in a box in the garage. I hear my children laughing sometimes. I hear the footsteps of my dog. I hear my grownups sometimes stressed and sometimes energetic. I think of how I will bless their lives the day they pull me out again. Today they did.
My children are a few inches taller. Goodness how my girl's hair has grown! This will probably be the last year that my boy's voice sounds sweet and young. I glow for them. I will glow and remind them of happiness and coziness and their beliefs every year. They hang all my friends on me with smiling faces. They string popcorn to decorate me with. It looks lovely, children, wrapped around and around my waist! Here's the smell of cinnamon as my children drape and decorate me. I love the way my lights reflect in the red glass globes. We watch "Elf" together. Tomorrow night they will sing Christmas songs around me. There will be presents around me. I will be here for them for as long as they want to remember everything I stand for every year.

Next: A stuffed toy animal
 

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“You would be perfect for Theodore.”

These were the first words you said to me, as you stroked my soft, furry feet, then held me close to see if I was soft enough.

From next to you came a rumbling laugh.

“A Teddy Bear for a kid we’re naming Teddy? Is that a little too on-the-nose?”

“He’ll love it,” you declared. “Besides, maybe he won’t go by Teddy. Maybe he’ll be solemn and wise and insist we always use his proper name.”

“With parents like us, I doubt that,” came the response, making you both giggle irresponsibly. “But what Theodore wants, Theodore gets.”

And then you dragged me off to the apparel aisle to find a blue sweater.

***

“24 weeks down, 26 to go,” you’d murmured to me, placing me in a jungle-themed crib.

I’m a teddy bear and you want me to convert weeks to months? Let’s lower the expectations a bit, woman.

But then you practiced singing your favorite nursery songs, reorganized the bookshelf three times until all your favorite fairy tales were in the front, and promised we’d be spending lots of time together.

Perhaps I wouldn’t mind being an educated teddy bear, after all.

***

The next time you visited, late at night, it was an hour before you spoke. You sat silently on the chair, rocking me and staring out the window.

The stillness abruptly transformed into a rampage, shrieking, throwing books from the shelf, scattering clothes and blankets from drawers. The fit devolved into you sinking to the floor, sobbing randomly into a receiving blanket. I’d sat in the rocking chair, shivering, as I watched the breakdown.

I’m not equipped to handle this. I’m just a teddy bear.

“Sorry, Teddy,” you’d whispered, giving me a long look before walking to the door.

You paused in the doorway, tapping your fingers against the frame, and uttered a single sentence before closing the door for what would be the last time.

“He isn’t coming.”


———-
Next topic: strawberry jam.
 

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I guess I'll go again since no one else is responding. Sorry if this is lame lol!:


In the beginning, there were Strawberries, Lemon Juice and White sugar. My Maker said it was good and saw fit to smash all three parts together. I didn't know what was happening at first. I was a hot mess but eventually everything gelled together and I was born.

My Maker said I was born sweet and sour right from the start! I thought life couldn't get much better (and I was right) because before I knew it, I was spooned into an air tight jar! I couldn't breathe! In fact, most days I find it hard to breathe. I'm just used to the lack of air now. But at first, I screamed and screamed until my Maker came to rescue me. At last! I was free (or so I thought). A part of me was stolen from me that day and used for....being spread on some soft white stuff. I watched as my once beloved Maker turned into a sadistic monster right before my eyes. Much to my horror, she ate me!

Now I live in constant fear of when the rest of me will disappear. I'm sure my Master would like for me to believe I'm being transported into another jar but I know better. The only friend I have in life is this jar that protects and imprisons me at the same time.
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Next topic: A Mirror
 
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This is such a cute thread. I love your strawberry jam, @Vivid Melody .
But haha, I suck at empathy. I'll think about the writing prompt for a while though, who knows?
 

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Discussion Starter #8
Mirror:

...Oh for goodness' sake, would you just stop grimacing at me??

I suck as a mirror. I am a complete failure at my purpose, and I hate myself. If you scoff at your appearance every time you look at me, I must not be showing you the way you look with the utmost clarity.

I just don't get it!

I don't understand.

If I'm warped, please shatter me so no one ever has to be offended by the way I portray them again. The way I've made you cry, I don't even deserve to be a funhouse mirror. Just end me. I can't deal with showing you what you hate to see in yourself.

I used to be pleased to look at you in all your beauty, but now I hate you. I hate when you come to see me. The smile gets wiped right off your face, and you start picking at the tiniest details of your appearance that I bet no one even notices besides you and me. Yeah, I can see when Eyelash #32 has a mascara clump on it, but I think nothing of it. Is it bad? Is it good? No, it just is. You just are. There was never a flaw with anything until you noticed.

I don't want you to use me anymore. I don't want to be used for this twisted purpose, but I am securely fastened to the wall and stuck here. My only hope for freedom is a little boy.

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Next object: a red brick
 
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