I am a doll, a clown doll. Even my name is Clown. Yes, I have consciousness and yes I have feelings. I don't understand why people think that is scary though.

My earliest memory was of me getting stitched lovingly by a grandma, with happy eyes, a red nose, a wide smile, and a big conical hat. She had told me lovingly, "I am your Mom, you can call me grandma. You are beautiful and I think you will be very loved."

However, as soon as I was completed, she put me away and focused on making a new toy. I felt so hurt. However, the other dolls told me their stories about how they were stitched and abandoned as well. She focused on one doll per week. The oldest doll there was three months old.

Finally, the day arrived when I was taken and put in a plastic box. I was very sad but I remembered Grandma telling us all, "Don't ever show others that you have feelings."

That's why, despite being away from my new friends and the only parent figure I had, I did not cry. The next days were very tough as I was suffocated inside the plastic box. I had kept in touch with others through the thin plastic covers separating us but I had to shout so much over the rumbling truck that soon, I had given up.

I sighed in relief as our boxes were removed individually and we sat on the lower shelf of a shop. Surprisingly, I was the most beautiful one and was kept at the very front. At least, I would like to think that because why else would they do that?

Days went by as I was still stuck in the plastic box. I had gotten used to the routine of being quiet and still during the day while talking with my friends and partying at night after the shop closed. The other toys warned us, "If someone catches you like that, you will be killed. You should stop doing that."

We just figured that they were too jealous and did not pay them much mind. One day, a girl entered with a woman, and the woman wanted to buy a few things for the girl's school project. I heard the woman saying, "We need some project papers, yes this colour is okay. Do you also have glue?"

I tuned them out, like others, when I suddenly found the girl's eyes meeting mine. I stood super still, stopping my urge to smile wider at her. She pulled on the woman's skirt and asked her, "Mom, can we buy this doll, please?"

The woman, also known as Mom, looked into my eyes too, before giving my whole body a once over, before hesitating and agreeing, "Yes, pack this doll too, please. How much is it worth?"

Just like that, I had become a new addition to their family. They also had a Dad in the family and this Dad was different from my Mom or the girl's Mom. He looked more like the people who stuffed me in boxes, who drove the truck, and who used to be the shopkeeper. However, this Dad was happier than them and even used to play with me after the little girl wanted him to.

I felt so happy, even though I had once thought that I would be sad after I was taken away from the shop, away from my friends. I wanted to tell the girl how happy she kept me. I was also learning the human language because the woman would teach the little girl how to read and the basics of the language. The girl would never study without me in her arms.

So, I walked to her one evening, telling her, "Hey, hello, my name is Clown. I wanted to tell you that-"

She screamed, running to the woman, pointing at me but whatever she said, I did not hear. The woman simply approached me and picked me up, showing me to the girl, as if wanting to prove something as she said, "See? It does not speak, it cannot speak Mary. Calm down. You must be daydreaming again."

The little girl however kept screaming and crying. I understood that I messed up by speaking. So, I stayed silent, not saying anything to anybody, waiting for the girl to forgive me for expressing my feelings. However, this was so unfair. Why could she throw tantrums when she was misunderstood but why did nobody make efforts to understand my feelings?

Finally, I was taken and put in a cardboard box by the Mom. I patiently waited for the girl to get me while eating or at least while sleeping. However, she did not and I am still waiting for that to happen, even though I think that it is never going to happen again. I wish I had listened to Grandma and had hidden the fact that I can speak too. This dusty room is not at all comfortable and I would forever miss being fed by the girl and the English lessons with the Mom and the Dad enquiring the girl how I was doing every day after he was back in the house...