Dear Diary,

I’m still getting settled, but I think I’ll like this newest transformation. I’ve been a rag doll before, and a toy soldier before. Why not both, at the same time? Did you know it’s my eighteenth form since being cursed by those witches all those years ago? I still haven’t figured out what triggers the change. Whenever I think too much about it, I get all lightheaded and start thinking of playtime. I guess it’s one of those things dolls don’t need to know about.

In any case, I have a dollhouse to myself, though it’s a little small for me. Not that I’m complaining, not after being squeezed into that toy chest all the time by the maid with my last form. Now I have room to stretch out and just type. That is, whenever my Owner isn’t around.

She’s a bit rough, but has a very active imagination. It’ll be good for inspiration when writing my little stories. I’ve resolved not to reveal my liveliness to her and just be a simple doll for the time being (She says, knowing that she’s failed to keep that promise before).

Oop. There goes another comment notification. It still makes me laugh that the people online think I’m a human, not a guy who got turned into a nigh-immortal doll twenty years ago. Do you think I should I tell them?