When I was a kid, my favorite toy was the 1995 Toy Story talking Woody doll. For years, he was like my best friend and went everywhere with me, but by the time I was in the 5th or 6th grade, I didn't play with him much anymore. I suppose that led my mom to belive I didn't care about him anymore becuse she packed him away in the basement while she was cleaning. Of course, she didn't tell me, so I spent the next 15 years thinking Woody was in my closet safe and sound. When I didn't find him there, I realized what must've happened, and I was devastated. I even bought another Woody on ebay, but it wasn't the same... he wasn't my Woody!
My mom and grandma finally found him last summer when they cleaned out the basement. I was sure he'd been ruined, but they told me the only damage he'd sustained in storage was a little dent in the top of his head. When I saw him for myself, I saw that wasn't true. Somehow, miraculously, he still talked, but he'd been attacked by mice! His bandana and collar were gone, and the "little dent" turned out to be a gaping hole in the middle of his forehead.
I sent him away to have his head swapped with the ebay Woody's, so you can't tell he was ever ruined in storage, but I still blame myself for what happened to him! If I'd cared for him like I should've, he wouldn't have gone into storage. I could hardly bring myself to hold him long enough to attatch a new collar and bandana,and I haven't been able to pick him up or even look at him since. I know it probably sounds ridiculous, but I just think of how angry I'd be if someone who was supposed to care for me left me to rot in a box for 15 years, then took me apart only to put me back so I wouldn't show any sign of damage!