Even when you laid on your big lovely bed, you still couldn’t feel comfortable. However, you couldn’t find a reason for your discomfort. You felt confused, lost in your broken and split thoughts. No energy to even remember your own name. The word “Emily”? That rang a bell, but very quietly. Your lifeless eyes, devoid of emotion, wondered whose glittery hooves in front of you were those. You couldn’t recognize that desaturated shade of greying pink. You just mumbled incoherently.
“B-Babbehs… Whewe am… Hab miwkies… Whewe am babbehs…”
As you had fragmented visions of your past, your ears heard footsteps, and a nearby door opening. You had to guess what the figure coming towards you was due to your cataracts. Probably a person.
“Oh, Emily. I almost forgot to change you. Let me help.”
Your eyes widened a little and your face slightly contorted in an attempt to express an emotion. “F-Fwuffy… Fwuffy make bad poopies?” You finally felt something other than confusion, depression and emptiness, but it was something negative. “Fwu… Fwuffy sowwy… N-Nu mean tu…”
“Don’t worry. I’ll help clean you up.”
Your slow, deteriorating brain finally noticed the dirty diaper you were wearing, but it didn’t notice that you couldn’t use the litterbox.
“Nice mistah? Hewwo, nice mistah. Nice tu meet yu.”
You couldn’t recognize the man carrying you to a colorful mattress, but you knew he was nice … and sad.
“Wai am nice mistah wookin’ sad?”
The nice mister cleaning you replied with a distressed “don’t worry, it’s nothing”, but you were still worried about him and the fact you didn’t use the litterbox.
“Nice mistah nu gib Fwuffy da sowwy cownew?.. Fow makin’ bad poopies?”
“No, Emily. You’re eleven years old, remember? You can’t use the litterbox anymore.”
You finally noticed that he was calling you “Emily”, a word that you were trying to remember. “Emiwy wub nyu name.”
“Okay, you’re all clean. Daddy’s busy, so he can’t play with you right now. But you have your toys, and I’ll call your babies over to take care of you, okay?”
You tried to make an effort to giggle.
“Siwwy mistah, babbehs nu can take cawe of mummahs.”
But your smile quickly turned into a frown as you didn’t remember that your “babbehs” were all grown up.
“Babbehs…? Whewe am babbehs? Babbehs must be su hungwy… Nee’ nummies to make miwkies!”
“Your babies are playing in the yard, stay calm. I’ll call them to go inside to keep you company.”
The figure pointed towards a window. You saw other figures in the yard, colorful and small. You assumed they were other fluffies.
“Nyu fwens?”
The nice mister sniffled as he put you on your bed and gave you soft toys. “Yes. Yes… They’re friends. They like you. I’ll go get them.”
“See yu soon, nice mistah.”
You were still so confused. You didn’t remember where you were or who you were. You just knew you were an old… living thing.