my teddy

Everyone has something that is irreplaceable to them, whether it is a loved one, a material object, or whatever. I have something that fits into that group- my teddy. I know it sounds funny that a 22 year old has a teddy bear, but he means the world to me. He is almost as old as I am. I got him when I was very young, maybe 1 or 2 years old. This bear has been with me through thick and thin. His appearance has changed throughout the years. He is no longer light brown in color; he is more of a faded brown. His once soft fur is now well worn. He used to have a little green bowtie on his neck; I have no idea what happened to it. It came off a long time ago. Where the bowtie used to be is now a hole. I sewed it up myself when I was young. I felt like I was performing surgery. There are little white treads poking out at his neck. The fur is completely rubbed off on his left arm. There is also a little hole at the end of his hand. When I was little I used to rub that arm for comfort. I sometimes find myself subconsciously rubbing it now. Most of the stuffing is gone in his left leg; it is caused from the way I used to hold him. The leather from is nose is torn off and now reveals a hard plastic nose. When I was little I used this as a weapon. Whenever my brothers would gang up on me, I would whip out my teddy and hold onto his legs and swing. The plastic nose would make contact with my brothers and then they would run off and leave me alone. They told me later how much it hurt to get hit by that nose. Whenever I come home from a hard day, the first thing I do is grab my teddy and give him a hug. He has a smell to him, a smell of home that comforts me. My family gives me a hard time about keeping my teddy for this long, but I don’t care. My teddy is my safety net, my comfort.