My friend is embarrassed and thinks she’s the only one and I said id prove her wrong.
I have two. c:mine goes with me everywhere. i’ve had little kids try to steal him from me in airports. everyone i’ve ever roomed with at a convention knows about my bear (he keeps my side of the bed safe).
My bed is covered in them
30-odd, sleep with dolls and bears, fight me.
And I apologise to him when he has to move out to make room for visiting human usurper. And make sure he’s comfortable in his chair. And still feel slightly guilty.
Sergio is my mental health bear and was bought for me by my late stepfather when I was having a freakout in a large scary shop. I hadn’t known my stepfather for that long, but he was calm and reassuring and kind and unembarrassed when his partner’s nineteen-year-old daughter burst into sudden frenzied public self-loathing, *and* he bought me a bear. It’d take more than “you’re thirty-four” to convince me that Sergio is somehow embarrassing.
(I seem to be splurging random gloomstories on Tumblr lately, possibly because it’s easier to do when you’re on your supposed doll blog with three followers. Oops?)