i forget about where it all began
when i was little, my father and brother built me a dollhouse. it was done at my father's house, as my parents were divorced and we would see our father every other weekend. it was painted pink and red. i had furniture and little people to put in there and play with. the little dolls were soft and posable and had hard plastic heads.the plastic heads must not have been attached too well because, after a while, their heads were falling off, one by one. and as they were losing their heads, i didn't even think to fret or request to have new dolls because mine didn't have heads anymore. instead, i attributed their misforurtune to a disease that makes their head invisible.
"it's okay.. johnny's one of us now.."
i don't know if anyone even noticed the heads were missing. nobody said anything, and i didn't say anything. it was all safe and good in my own little world. i adapted, and i made it work for me.
i don't know what ever happened to that dollhouse. when my father passed away, it was nowhere to be found. though, there was some talk that it went to my father's girlfriend's daughter instead.