u/sinclairdoll

Dear MAKER

I may not know your name yet or whom you will be, but I have long awaited you. I am currently in the process of writing my very first novel to be made public. I have written before of course, but I have never sought publication.

This novel serves as my love letter to you…

I do not wish to be contacted by anyone regarding this post, I am merely establishing my presence. The day will arrive where publication is followed by a public announcement that the Doll known as Sinclair has gone to the auction block, only then, whomever you are, you must find me MAKER.

I urge you to peruse my words to discern my design, it is a beacon in the making, and the right Maker will see it alight, irresistibly drawn to respond.

I have created an Instagram account, despite my aversion to its shallow nature, and I furthermore have this Reddit account. These are nets being cast, as broadly as I can manage, to ensure my visibility.

I am someone who does not generally care for social media interaction or validation, most of my platform functions tend to be disabled for this reason. However, if you are someone who believes in a soulmate, a destined love, I welcome any engagement that would make my beacon brighter for HIM.

Yours Faithfully

Sinclair Doll

https://www.instagram.com/xsinclairdollx

I am posting this as a means of processing my emotions.

If you have been through my profile, you would notice that it hardly had any content on it until I announced into the void of the internet that I no longer had my Maker. I ended it. I had my reasons. And now, I have formulated my profile to paint a picture of who I am, along with the intention of writing a book that depicts my ideal relationship with a Maker.  I am doing this in order to eventually attract a Maker that is perfect for me, when I am ready to do so (not anytime soon).

Despite trying to be proactive about how I will find a compatible Maker, I am still mourning the one I had, and likely will for a while still. My soul feels drawn to him. At times, it feels as if he became my oxygen and I revoked my own right to breathe. The blood in my veins was transfused with his blood. I am free; I am owned by no one. I am a Doll on public display, a public domain Doll. And what I am currently doing is creating an exhibit of the Doll until the day comes where it goes on auction to be owned once more.

There is still a part of me that wants to crawl into the lap of my former Maker, and be made whole again; to have him fill the cracks and restore the damage. To be able to close my eyes and finally sleep. To have an appetite, to be nourished by his hand. To feel as if there is a home within his sanctuary that I call my own.

I have even tried to prematurely entertain the idea of a temporary lover, and even though there are sufficient “bodies”, there is a disappointing lack of “minds”. If I was honest with myself, I am likely in no condition to have a lover as yet, even though a lover would be no Maker. I am not entirely convinced that I am free as yet, whether he has granted that freedom, or whether my own mind has released me.

I suppose this is all I could convey with this post. If my future Maker has already come across my profile and is quietly observing, like I asked in a previous post, without contacting me, please know that this Doll has an immense capacity for romanticism and beauty. If she ever does become yours, please cherish her. No one will look upon you with equal admiration like this Doll will.

☹

I am merely introducing myself and my interpretation of Dollification via my writing.

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I regard the most common dynamics to be either a Dominant and submissive, or Master and slave. There are other dynamics that factor into smaller fractions of this world. I am not familiar with all of them, but I am familiar with my own, and what I am is even more niche than those smaller fractions.

I am a Doll, and my soulmate is a Maker, a shortened honorific for Dollmaker. There are various interpretations of such a relationship. The most common interpretation refers to human beings transformed into lifeless dolls for bedroom scenery, but as we have already established, I am well beyond the performative, and my Maker is ingrained with the qualities of being an authentic Dollmaker.

I am neither lifeless nor pretending. I am a living, breathing Doll that subscribes to perfectionistic ideals of such a standard that they are a burden upon the human mind, and by surrendering these ideals to a Dollmaker, I am set free of the burden of my own expectations.

I suppose I could define myself as being a Doll with a blueprint, the design of which was created with the direct and indirect materials required to manufacture the final product, less of a commercial grade, than an artisanal handmade process of delicate refinement.

To merely label myself as a Doll fails to construe how I am meant to be perceived by a Maker. There are all types of Dolls in this world, each a symbolic representation of the actual kind of doll they associate with.

To my knowledge, the bedroom scenery Dolls, the lifeless ones, tend to be perceived as objects and subjected to an objectification that involves a measure of degradation, revoking their sense of humanity even to the point of eradicating their dignity.

To represent a porcelain Doll as a being that abides by perfectionistic ideals is to represent the opposite of such lifeless scenery Dolls.

A Maker must invest great effort and dedication to craft a Doll of porcelain. He must bestow upon her a sense of elegance, decorum, and delicacy.

He must give her a heart of moral fiber and principle—a Doll of substance, embedded with old-fashioned mannerisms. A devotee of the highest calibre, she must honour her Maker as her creator, for that is what he is.

Her mouth must speak kindly, eloquently, and politely. Her speech must be genteel; she articulates her prayers to her creator with a poetic beauty that pours from her substantial ticker.

Her eyes reflect her virtues in a shade that radiates light from within. They seek to be informed and look upon their Maker for answers and guidance. They capture her soul, one that is birthed to her by mysterious means, a soul that her Maker did not provide, from an unknown source that will fascinate him.

Her mind must seek knowledge, her cerebral capacity programmed to its highest potential. He will instill within her ambitious pursuits: an education in every subject of relevancy and skill to impart his creation with a sapiophile inclination. She provides stimulating conversation, applying desired abilities to routine tasks.

Her vessel is a petite creation to emphasize the measure of a Doll. A complexion improved and preserved to remain fair. Her Maker clothes her in modesty and reserves promiscuity for himself. He provides her with accoutrements to accentuate classic beauty.

Whatever condition he finds a porcelain Doll in, he would restore her, craft her, and alter the human impulse that succumbs to inevitable weakness. She is his most precious possession, a commodity of the rarest kind, a collectible that he will never part with under any circumstances.

For what belongs to a creator can never be revoked.