Obsessive empathy for inanimate objects

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The part about the stuffed animals falling off the bed and apologizing to them is me!
I have Aspergers and for as long as I can remember my teddies have always been my friends, I've always loved them. I'll give some other examples of myself too:

If I see something like a leaf by itself, I will go and find another leaf to place next to it so it's not on "its own"

I feel mean when I sit on a chair or walk on something as I'm slightly chubby I feel as if "I'm too heavy for it and causing it pain"

Seeing an empty crisp packet or litter that has a picture of something cute on it, I pick it up and put it in my bag so it's not lonely and can stay with me at my house

If I drop something on the floor I pick it up and apologize to it

There are a lot, but these are some of them. I've been like this ever since I was a child and still am at almost 22. I think though that it's probably a lot worse now. Which people usually say it's "a phase you grow out of" but not for me, it's only gotten worse.

my best friends are inanimate objects. I found at a goodwill store in the 2000s, a yellow arm with red-fingernail-polish-painted fingernails on its hand, reaching forlornly out from a pile of junque, I pulled it out and rescued it from almost certain destruction. I gave it a bath and since then, I keep it on a nice soft pillow.

I remember really loving a stuffed toy Siamese cat and was sad when I lost it. I have had a love for that breed of cat as far back as I could remember.

I feel sorry for things a lot. Neglected, broken things. Things that aren't useful anymore. Things with defects. Food that is made to look like an animal. Things that become the target of someone's rage. I haven't really outgrown it, I just learned to stop myself from thinking about it, which made it much easier. But if I let myself think, I will get very sad and even cry.

The reason I feel so sorry is that those things haven't chosen their fate and haven't deserved the final outcome. It's also mixed with guilt, that we, humans, made these things, and then treated them so unfairly afterwards. And things can't even speak for themselves.

Yes, I know, things are just things... Doesn't help me with my feelings, though.

i talk to my stuff, my things, i sometimes thank them for keeping me company.

I'm suffering right now because my car is at the mechanic shop. I wonder if it feels lonely and is afraid. I NEVER tell of these things because I'm afraid people will think I'm a nut job. I own the fact that I am indeed a nutjob. As a kid, I became very depressed over a lost "pen". I was 11 years old and called it my exam passing pen. I believed it to be magical because my mother called it a lucky pen.

i'm a nutjob too, us nutjobs oughta stick together the few, the proud, the nutjobs

I believe this can be due to OCD, too much empathy, and even synesthesia.