You slam the door on me and wander around your room as though you’re embarrassed by your actions. The dolls on the floor seem to mock your actions, for they know as well as I do that this isn’t the first time you slammed the door. The moonlight casts an eerie glow into your room, making it even more comfortable for us. You’re still wondering around your room, you know? Why are you doing so? Don’t tell me you’re suddenly questioning your actions.

Ah, you looked up! You are questioning yourself! Why? You’ve dreamt about this night for days, have you not? Then why question your actions? You’ve slammed this door on so many of your shadows that thought you would be indifferent to it. Apparently your heart really is like that of a child. Sweet, innocent… you can’t get over something even if it occurred daily. So why are you questioning yourself? You hated me; I could see it in your eyes. Every time I appeared to play that lullaby-

Oh how you flinched at the word just now! You really hated that word, don’t you? Or is it just my existence that you hate? I can’t help it you obsessed yourself with that lullaby. I only sang it to you every night. That was my job as your shadow; I am to comfort you. What better way than to play your favorite lullaby every night? Now that you’re growing up, you can’t handle a simple little lullaby?

Now you’re walking around again. Are you thinking about your actions again? It’s too late; you have thrown me away for good. Just like all your other skeletons and shadows, you have tossed me away into your closet and slammed the door on them. Do you find it amazing that you can just toss parts of yourself away and forget about them? Don’t you think we can act like poems to your boyfriends and your Barbie dolls. We can’t. We can’t be taken back out to examine after the dust is brushed off. We go away for good.

Is that why you’re questioning your actions? I know you love that lullaby with all your heart and soul. You sing it every night to yourself, even though your mother thinks you are too old to be doing such things. How old are you now? Six? Seven? I guess it matters not. You’re growing up, and you’re being told that lullabies are for toddlers. So now you throw me in the closet like everything else you’re “too old” for, and you’re trying to forget about me. See, I know your actions all to well! You’re surprised your shadow knows your thoughts and plans? How naïve.

As for your questioning, what’s there to question? You’re growing up; you don’t need a stupid little lullaby to go to sleep. That’s what you want to think, isn’t it? Then why don’t you? See… your body tensed up. Does it hurt to think like that? Does it hurt to think like an adult does? Let me see… I know your actions, so why are you questioning your motives? You want to grow up. That is perfectly natural. Everybody throws away their childhood things in the closet, never to be reopened unless a sense of nostalgia should overtake them. You’re only six or seven years old, however, so you don’t even know what the world nostalgia means. It’s okay though. After throwing away so many shadows, I’m sure it will plague you for a very long time later on in life.

Sitting on your bed now, eh? Surrounding yourself with your dolls and wishing for a new shadow? A new shadow always appears, yet you seem to enjoy tossing us aside more than appreciating our company. Maybe this time you’re curious as to why a shadow always comes back. Shouldn’t a shadow have a life like a normal human? Once they are dead, why does the shadow seem to come back? Or do we come back? Is it these questions that haunt your mind? No, I think it is something else.

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