And you wanted it so,
And you let me go down,
To the end of the road.
And the black and the white,
A technicolorful life
Breaking Benjamin, Home
I have this bear. I’ve had it forever. Since before I was old enough to have the concept of naming things down. My bear doesn’t have a name. It has a gut feeling that’ll never fit into words.
Bear (I’ll name it that now because when we get older, things need names) was made in Korea. He’s got two beady black eyes, matted fur and a broken music box in his back.
He faithfully played “The sun’ll come out tomorrow” for years. Until I was well past needing silly things like stuffed animals to keep me safe.
He spent a long time tucked in a dark corner, forgotten. When I got old enough to feel a little nostalgic, I found him again.
The gears are stripped in his music box, and it makes a pretty horrible noise now, but I keep thinking that I should get it fixed soon.
A lot of my stuff, I keep it because it’s a memory. Part of writing this blog is trying to keep that memory withouth keeping all the clutter that goes along with it.
