I sit, smushed against my kin, in a box in your closet.

Why am I here?

I didn’t used to be.

I was once your best friend.

I remember a time when you whispered to me in the dark, and named me Meowmie.

I remember a time when you clutched me to your chest as you fell asleep every night.

I remember a time when I sat on your pillow every day, waiting for you to come home from school.

I remember a time when we spent hours togethers, making up stories, and I became a princess, a queen, a spy, a sister, an assassin, but I was always still your Meowmie.

I was there when you cried, your tears soaking my fur.

I was there when you laughed, tossing me up in the air.

And I watched you grow, as your pudgy fingers became long and slender.

And I watched you grow up, as you became too busy for me.

I watched you grow up, until I was collecting dust on your bedside table.

Until I was gently placed in a box in your closet, and forgotten. 

There’s no anger or sadness in my heart; it’s all just bittersweet.