I have a stuffed wolf named Skippy. He has been my best friend for over a decade. I had a blanket until I was 16. Then I thought God told me that if I threw my blanket away, he would save the soul of a very messed up girl I knew. So I threw it away. Its still hard for me to talk about it. I feel like I threw away my best friend over what was probably a manic episode. In those days, I thought the more pain I felt the happier everyone else was. So I was always willing to do things that caused me pain. I thought of myself as existing only to experience suffering. I consider losing that blanket an indirect casualty of my abuse, but now I have Skippy. He reminds me that even though some happy things are lost forever, sometimes new happy things can come along.
Sorry, didn't mean to get so heavy.
"it's good to be young but let's not kid ourselves -- it's better to pass on through those years and come out the other side with our hearts still beating;
having stared down demons and come back breathing." -- John Darnielle