I just can't seem to let him go. He's been with me through too much, and he's the only one who is always there for me. He's my Velveteen Rabbit, even though he's...Bear.
That's him on the right, obviously. Buster is ready and willing to take over for him, but I'm not ready. I got Bear as a Christmas gift in high school-- sophmore year, I think-- and he's been with me every since. Everywhere I've gone. Everything I've gone through. He's been cried on more times that I can possible say; he's been drooled on in my sleep, I'm sure; he's gotten snotty when I've been sick; he's had more germs coughed on him that I care to think about; he's traveled to foreign lands--as visitors and as residents; he's been my pillow when I've not had a real one; he's my comfort and cuddler every night.
I realise admitting all it even more painfully obvious that I am a total dork. But heck, I don't care. I love him, and he's been good to me. So what if I'm nearly 35, and still sleep with a stuffed bear? I don't see a problem with it.
Anyway. I love my bear. He's losing the lining of his ears and feet-- which will soon start leaking stuffing. His nose is rubbed down to the bare plastic. He used to be white. Seriously. And he's been a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, a cuddle when I need one, a bit of home wherever I am. I know I should let him rest, on a shelf nearby, watching over me. I should let Buster or someone else take over. But I can't. I'm not ready to let him go. He's a part of me, and I know that he'll one day be a Real Bear... but I'm selfish enough to want to keep him a while longer. He's real enough to me already.