I'm a toy collector.

But not like the other toy collectors--who never take their stuff out of the box to play with it or even touch it.

I get my toys--fairly expensive ones, like Inferno of the Living Dead Dolls collection--and I set them up so I can play with them a little later. I talk to them and I play with them. They're like friends that will never leave; and you know, that Velveteen Rabbit thing... love can make you real.

I once had an assignment in English to write a moral story--a page, minimum. Most people turned in less than half a page on some random half-assed topic. I turned in eight pages elaborating on the idea of "love can make you real"... but instead of the nice, fluffy Velveteen Rabbit, I used Isaac and Inferno, two of my own Living Dead Dolls (whom I actually think are living sometimes...)

The girl in the story was lonely, and so she had lonely toys who kept her company. She imagined that they were living and that they were all close, close friends. And because she had such a vivid imagination, they WOULD come alive for her. But then, the people who make her lonely and sad start turning up missing... So I added on a little bit to the moral tag at the end of the story.

"Love can make you real. But sometimes you can love too much and things can get TOO real."

I think that my friends have spirits. Perhaps they do. Perhaps they don't. But I like to think they do.

Sometimes I think that Inferno's gaze follows me around the room from atop her perch on the stereo (which is more a shelf with buttons than anything else). Seriously! I'll sit over here in the rocking chair, glance over my shoulder, and Inferno seems to be staring right at me, lookin' at what I'm typing. Then I'll move over onto my bed... and it looks like Infy's eyes have followed me!

Maybe this is just further proof that I'm finally going crazy for lack of flesh-and-blood friends. I don't really care; it'd be cool if Inferno were alive (as long as my story doesn't end up like The Girl's...)