Prologue
There was once a time I was a inanimate object. I had no voice, no means of movement, no breath and absolutely no life to speak of. I was no one. All I had were my eyes. At first i didn't even have that; Infact at first I was completely completely despondent. I was devoid of all intelligence and consciousness. I saw nothing and I heard nothing.I had no mind of my own, yet being around someone so active and alive as Robbie, somehow rubbed off on me. There was this magic he had. There was some strange energy he possessed, some peculiar and mystifying power he was not aware he had. His verve and voracity, his constant buzzing about, stirred my inner being i had no idea existed.
The moment I received my sight, I immediately began to think for myself. You may call it a miracle, you could call it magic, you could even call it impossible; All I know is I'm alive now regardless of what anyone calls it. He made it possible. I owe my existance to him. All his other creations mean nothing to me. I am alive and they are not. I am proud of the fact that i am alive. So i would like it best if all his former creations were destroyed or at least removed from his lair on a permanent basis, then there would only be me. I call all of his other contraptions he has all over his lair, relics. They are relics of his past. If only he'd just let go of these relics of his past, then he could mov e on with his life. If these relics were removed he would have only me to admire. Sure, he might not have made me with his own two hands but still he gave me life. I believe I am his greatest work. There is nothing so delicate and exquisite. as I, amongst all his collection. I do not just exude feminine nature , I am the epotime of femininity. He should be proud of me as i am proud of myself. Yet he's always been in constant pursuit of that blue elf known as Sportacus. Ever since that day he changed me back to my former size with the littlizer he has had nothing to do with me. He talks to me sometimes but not like he used to when he was a boy.
I think he just talks sometimes for the sake of talking yet still I wait for his attention. You see I've lived a sheltered llife, most of the time of which I've been left on a shelf to gather dust. Ive spent most of my existance in a box. I'm a ballerina you see and only dance when the box is open. Then you mustn't forget my key in the back. After my box has been closed and my my key has been turned, the whole world goes dark and i am no longer a joy to anyone. when the music ends and i stop my spinning altogether I feel as if the world around me has come to an end as well.I should be sad. I should be heart broken but alas i have no heart. I am childhood toy, i know this. I also know that I should belong to a little girl but nonetheless i belong to Robbie, who's tiny heart never grew up. His heart I'm sure really isn't tiny. Unfortunately his heart is not the size he would like it to be. He'd probably much prefer that didn't have one at all, for his heart has too much goodness in it. He's too soft inside, that's his problem. If he weren't so soft he'd have gotten rid of Sportacus a long time ago. Naturally I'm on his side. He is my master afterall yet still I find his child like spirit to be slightly annoying. He has the heart of a child. I suppose I should be grateful to him because if he didn't have the heart of a child he would never have kept me. Yes I should definitely be thankful that he keeps that little boy alive.
When he's alone( which is most of the time)and he's not worrying about those meddlesome children, he'll open the lid to my box and look upon me with fondness. He'd let out a sigh and smile in sad sort of way. I always thought it was because of me. I thought he was sighing because of his love for me. I imagined he had this secret devotion for me, however i figured out that that devotion was for someone else. What can one do when you're only an inch tall and you're trapped in some some box by a spring? You dream of course. It's the only thing you can do.
He wasn't torn by his passion for a girl who could never love him. He wasn't even thinking of me. He lost in his past, caught up in the web of his lost dreams. Maybe that's just my imagination as well. I am just a relic to him, I am a mere reminder of his past. I represent nothing to him but a memory to him. I am Rottenella and Robbie Rotten of Lazy Town is my master.