My Phone, My Teddy

I’ve taken to sleeping with my phone. Not every night, but enough. It is my adult teddy bear. It’s my radio and creative notes taker among other things. I have a queen size bed half empty, so I got the space to treat it royally. It gets its own pillow too!

I forcibly weaned myself from sleeping with my teddy bear five or so years ago. (I won’t tell you my age. You may speculate if inclined.;-)) It was the mature thing to do. But really, it shouldn’t have mattered if I continued in that vein. There is nothing wrong with cuddling with an inanimate object imbued with your love. And I do love this teddy so. It has been mine since I was 8 years old. And I always was possessive of my stuff. 

Of course it has seen better days. Once overly plush in texture and pure white in color, now noseless (I do have the fallen piece in a drawer), with tougher bruised fluff and dirty complexion. Doesn’t matter. My teddy is still beautiful to me! He is an extension of my person, an existing connection to my childhood, where hope glowed bright before adult life crushed. 

My older sister took pleasure in tormenting me via injury to my teddy bear. She would trespass into my room and throw him on the floor, or even steal him and hide him. That made me furious!! Even today, the memory angers… 

I will always love my teddy, but now I love my phone so too. 🙂

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