Inside the Mind of a Pinata

They’ve told me that I should be excited. That I am to be used for someone else’s enjoyment. I can’t say I feel very thrilled about it, personally.

I realize we all have a greater good. They say this is my purpose - my destiny. What if I am meant for greater things? You can’t imagine what it must be like to know that your one mission in life is to be stuffed to the brim with candy and then beaten until you burst. How does that sound humane?

I know the end is near. I am aware that they will soon start to bring in the goodies. That they will manhandle me and use me for their own will. Shoving and stuffing. But that won’t stop my mind from wandering. 

There has to be more to life. Than this. Than just being used for someone else’s happiness. What about my own happiness? When I was being built, they whispered these words to me. Told me that I was going to make a child very happy. That their friends would shriek and clap and delight. In what, I wanted to yell at them – at my torment? At my abuse? How is this meant to make me feel better? 

I didn’t sign up for this. I was just a bit of paper. Paper with words. Words about politicians and what they had done wrong. Obituaries – people’s last impact on the world. This is what I started out as. How did it get to this? I was supposed to remain on your coffee table, the half finished crossword – or the specials at the daily market.

You were meant to clip pieces from me and put me on the fridge. Inspirational bits – I mean I did have that story about the little girl who raised money for the neighborhood park she wanted to build. This. This is what my purpose was. Not to be cut, ripped, shredded and wetted down. Glued into whatever mold you meant for me. 

I was supposed to be the word of the people. By the people and for the people. I was meant to inform the masses. Tell them what was going on in the world. This is purpose. Being a little girl’s birthday present isn’t really all that grand, in the grand scheme of things.

Words bring knowledge. Knowledge brings power. But they’ve decided to ignore that. To go about and use me however they deem fit. Why couldn’t I have ended up in the mayor’s office – the story about the high school academic team qualifying for the national tournament – clipped and framed? Where people could gaze upon me for years and read my words? 

What did I do wrong, I want to scream. How could I have made you so upset that you want to defile me and everything that I stand for? Why don’t you want to devour my words? 

Ignorance is bliss. I heard this once. And you know what? They’re right – ignorance must be bliss. Because the people who have chosen to ignore all that I stand for aren’t full of knowledge, they aren’t full of all the information that I could bring them. Instead they are filled with glassy eyed hope that this piñata – I’m shaped like a freaking horse, for the love of God – will be the highlight of the party. 

I thought, until just now, that I couldn’t feel lower. But now they’re here. With their bowls of bubble gum, and tiny toys, mints, and chewy candies. They’ve come for me. I had hope, until this very moment, that they would change their mind. That they would see what words could stand for. That they would respect what I had done for them in the past. What I could do to brighten their future.

I was wrong. Instead they mean to just use me. And let children beat me about. Until my insides explode. They say the children are the future. Not one I mean to be a part of, that’s for sure. 

Promise me something – promise me that you – someone out there – anyone out there – will remember me. You’ll remember what it means to read words and gain power from them. You won’t forget. Promise me this.