Friday, March 20, 2009

My first blog...yippee

I'm sure you're wondering why "The Rubber Doll Chronicles". Let me try to explain.

I like ball-jointed dolls. I like how they look, their realistic faces. I like that they aren't real. Sounds strange, I know. But there's a reason. When I first saw one online I thought "what the hell?" They look like some kind of pervert's barbie doll. And, to be honest, a lot of the photos I have seen of them online are quite weird. I mean seriously, who buys $500 dolls, dresses them up and then photographs them in all kinds of poses...some pretty provocative if I may say so.

But then I realized that I found them oddly fascinating. I could see why they were enticing. They don't talk back either, my favorite feature. The main thing that attracts me to them is they reflect how I feel as a person...like a doll...a thing that can be made to do whatever you want it to do and it has no life of it's own. That's how I felt most of my life.

There are a lot of details I could bore you to death with here but I'll keep it brief. I never felt like I could be ME. I was too busy being what others in my life needed, wanted, and expected. I was manipulated in so many ways. I was a doll with a fake plastic face who was empty inside. Except, really I wasn't empty. I was full of anger, hate, frustration, and emotions ready to explode. And, one day I did. It wasn't pretty, and the bloody mess I trailed behind me has taken years of self-exploration to begin to heal. As a result, I still struggle with depression other issues...I am who I am and that's ok.

I was a doll. And now, I am part girl, well...part woman who still feels like a girl finding her way through the world...somewhat bitter, definitely angry, and very sarcastic and biting. I have a soft-side...those who know me will say I have a good heart. I just don't like to admit it.

It's easier to hide behind my plastic-doll face and pretend to be whatever it is everyone needs me to be. But some days, like today...the face cracks and I let some of the hurting girl inside seep out. More to come...

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