There's not much here for Angel here anymore, if I have to be honest.
She's lost everything close to her, but even then she wasn't close to the dead dog I desperately miss. It would've been nice to have a companion. I know not to blame Angel for it anymore. It wasn't her fault.
Imagination is something that I use to think of the world as a better place. Somewhere happier, where everyone loves each other no matter what and there is no hate. Just love.
I can't make the world that way, though. That isn't right to force someone to adapt to the ways that you want them to, no matter how much of a bad person they are. That's just the way things are.
And who am I to say anything about this? I am a toy, a furby. I am selfish to be judging others for who they are and the mistakes they made, even though I've probably done worse. I don't want to go there right now, though. The world is peaceful right now at night, where I can't hear yelling from Angel's parents as their asleep.
Maybe it's better this way, where everything is not perfect. But as for now, I can't tell for sure.
YOU ARE READING
Diary of a Furby
Short StoryPLEASE READ: I AM REDOING THIS ENTIRE STORY. I WROTE THIS ABOUT 1-2 YEARS AGO, THE WRITING IS SEVERLY DATED, AND IF I WERE TO CONTINUE THIS (which I plan to do so) I WANT A FRESH START. The plot will be the same for the most part, don't worry!! I've...
