The Personification of Objects

I've really been slacking off with my updating lately.  Last month, I wanted October to be all about this zombie story that I wrote and this month I'm heavily involved in writing my first novel for National Novel Writing Month, so I guess I just haven't had much time to update.  That doesn't mean I haven't had a lot going on in my mind...

Just to kind of elaborate on my last entry, the discomfort is still there.  I think a part of the reason why is because I grow attached to objects, not people.

I felt bad putting my huge television in our storage building.  I felt bad putting my rinky-dink chair in our storage building.  It was sad letting go of my statuesque armoire to make room for my new desk.  And yesterday, I received a new phone due to a new cell phone provider absorbing my former one.  That night, I reached for my phone to put on my nightstand (I use the alarm feature to wake up in the morning) and when I touched it, I realized I didn't need it anymore.  The phone was old, obsolete, no longer needed.  I felt bad because I felt like I had not only upgraded to "better" things but abandoned the old stuff.

I would understand if you think that's super crazy.

But for me, I don't think it's so extreme.  I knew a girl in high school who personified her stuffed animals.  I do that as well.  But it doesn't stop there.  I have a robot dog that I bought when I was in high school that I still keep around, even though I haven't turned him on in ages.  I don't want to get rid of him because I would feel bad, like I was abandoning him just as if he were a real dog.

Even when I sold my raggedy truck (my first vehicle) and bought a brand new car, I felt a tinge of sadness over selling the truck.  I didn't like the truck so much as it wasn't personally something I'd choose and it was quite old when I got it.  But it sure did work!  It wasn't much to look at but it was dependable and got me where I needed to go.  And yet, I moved on to something that I deemed "better" and got rid of it.

I guess if I really think about it, the reason I get sad is because I almost feel like I'm leaving these things behind to get better things.  And that resonates with me because I feel like I, too, have been left behind by people so they could find someone better.

And maybe I attach more emotion to objects than people because I've never been that attached to people in the first place.  I don't think I've ever had a consistent friend in my life.  I've had some that have lasted quite a while but even the longest, strongest ones have fizzled out in time.  People grow apart.  Time and circumstance change personalities.  People become sick or disturbed.  People move on.  People leave.  But that stuffed animal or acoustic guitar isn't going anywhere, isn't going to get up and walk away.  It's there to be touched and talked to, a constant presence in a world of shifting bodies.

I guess it is kinda weird.

And as I mentioned before, it's the whole idea of change.  I don't know why I'm so against it, especially in a world and a life where things are constantly changing.  The only thing that will ever remain constant is change.  Everything is ephemeral.  And I just can't get past that.  And maybe the emotional attachment and fear of change go hand in hand.  Not only does it feel like saying goodbye to an old friend but I then have to adjust to something new, something coming in and changing up my life and I almost resent it, whether it's a person, place or thing.  I don't like disruptions but existence is nothing but one big disruption after another.

Everything changes. 

People. 

Writing. 

Feelings.

Attachments.

Furniture.

Hearts.