Thank you for leaving this comment! I completely agree with you about not liking the "medication makes imagination go away" trope myself. The fastest way to get me ranting is to compare medicated people to zombies. HATE it. Instead, I tried to get across my own experience, and one many others feel, of medication redirecting the energy towards other priorities and outlets. This story is based on my own life and a moment I remember as a child of sitting in my room shortly after first getting medicated and staring at my pile of toys and thinking about playing with them but instead just sitting there as if unable to move to do so.

I don't actually believe anyone actually ever fully loses their imagination. I just believe that other things start taking priority and eventually the imagination changes. Putting this from the perspective of the teddy was me trying to grapple with the feeling that it still has life but it isn't being revealed to you. Like looking back on old friendships lost to time, you know they are still there, that they are real, but you don't see them quite the same. They don't really have animacy or depth anymore. When I look at my childhood toys, even today, I get overwhelmed by feelings of old friendships and memories beyond nostalgia for a plaything, but I just can't see them as I do for my current friends. Maybe I'll have to play with this a bit more after the judging period ends…

Spoiler of my author post to come: I’ve always struggled as a person and teacher with ADHD. When parents ask me about medication for their children and if it’s a good idea I never know what to say. On one hand, I praise my medications for helping me become the person I am today. On the other, I wish I would have been a kid a little bit longer. This arises from that experience.