There is a fundamental difference between our lives that strains to sever our bridges. I am an anchor weighing you down as you sail towards your dreams. Even then, I have yokes to bear alone: frustration, guilt, and wistful despair plague me incessantly. After all I went through, the surprise at being cast away has lost its novelty. It is as you said: do not complicate life. I am a tumor practically begging for a surgical removal. I live vicariously, leeching off of things until I am rid of.
It occurs to me now that perhaps people cross paths with my own to ascertain what they truly want - not too different from coveting a toy from behind a window, going into the shop to speak with the maker, and briefly trying the toy out only to find realize that you never wanted the toy at all and so you return it and leave contented.
I am toy. This is my purpose: to be loved for a spell only to be outgrown, before the hands change again.
This is my fate: to be cherished until the child is grown, after which my fate is my own.
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