Wintergreen

one doesn't always become a doll all at once. it might start as playing dress-up for a certain person. teasing her. finding out what she likes. sending her photos when you're bored.

then the outfits become habit, and comfort. you find it's hard to don anything she wouldn't like.

you text her:

um, so, funny story, i accidentally wore the red velvet dress on a work call the other day,

and she replies:

Hmm. Anyone notice?

not really, but it was still weird.

Not weird. Dolls can't dress themselves up. Would take the fun out. Bet you looked cute.

who cares if i looked cute? i'm not a doll tho!!

Send me a photo of what you're wearing right now.

sent. 📎🖼

And yet you dress like that. Are you sure you're not one? A doll wouldn't be flustered about it. A doll could just be pretty for me.

…ffuck

Wear the orange one tomorrow.

stop asking things like "which one of you wears the pointy hat" and "so whose body responds utterly involuntarily to whom" and "do you need someone who can turn both your keys". it's time to end #doll4doll erasure.

the dollish urge to pin down something many times your own physical size and introduce it to all the sharp shiny shards, remnant from your remaking, that you carry around inside you

you might be punished, but truly, if your Witch didn't want you to use these bright glittering jags as makeshift needles and cutting edges, She wouldn't have left them all lodged in your stuffing, where you can get to them so easily by simply pulling yourself apart.