Not "a little bit smaller," but Lego-sized.
And the worst part? I can't move like my adult self. My adult self walks, jumps, drinks coffee. Me? I can only… fall over wobbly.
Day 1: The Awakening
I woke up on a desk next to a giant keyboard key that was bigger than my apartment.
My adult self looked at me and said:
"Ah, cute. Mini-me."
CUTE?! I'm a full-fledged personality with existential questions, not a keychain.
He tried to sit me up. I immediately fell over.
He sighed: "Well, ergonomics aren't designed for a scale of 1:100."
The Adult World
Everything is absurdly large.
- A coffee cup is a swimming pool.
- A smartphone is a movie screen.
- A cat is a live tiger with whiskers.
I now live in a matchbox he calls "my studio."
The rent is unaffordable: one crumb a week.
Transportation problems
My older self takes me outside in his jacket pocket.
I feel like a secret agent, until he goes for a walk and I become like a washing machine spinner.
He sets me down on a bench.
A pigeon approaches and looks at me as if I'm a walking chicken nugget.
I try to walk away. I can't.
I can only fall over dramatically in protest.
Social Interaction
People laugh and say:
"What a cute little doll!"
LITTLE DOLL.
I start a TED Talk about miniature rights, but no one hears me except an ant who is angry because I'm in his parking space.
The Existential Crisis
In the evening, my older self watches TV while I sit on the remote control like a trinket.
I think:
- Am I a copy?
- Am I a toy version?
- Do I have to pay taxes in miniature?
My adult self asks:
"Would you like something to drink?"
He puts a drop of water next to me. It's a tsunami.
The Big Advantage
Yet it has advantages:
- I don't pay for a full pizza, but a crumb and I'm full.
- I can live in a cookie jar without a mortgage.
- I can sleep in a sock without washing sheets.
Mini-Me's Conclusion
The adult world is impressive, dangerous, and full of vacuum cleaners (the natural enemy of all things small).
But honestly?
The biggest problem isn't that everything is big.
The biggest problem is that my adult self always forgets me on the table…
…and then the cat starts smiling again.
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