*this is really dark cuz I took it at 4:30 AM and I can’t turn on the light b/c I have a roommate*
This morning, I thought I lost my pink frog, Squishy. I never fly without it. I quietly searched the room before realizing it was on my bed the whole time. Squishy was given to me for my 18th birthday by my then boo thang Polaris. He came into our physics class pretending to forget that it was my birthday then whipped out this bundle of joy. It was a perfect gift, especially since we hadn’t extensive discussed my love for stuffed animals.
I think Squishy means so much to me because he’s a symbol of romantic love. Polaris loved me for who I was. He wasn’t abusive like my first boyfriend or college girlfriend. He wasn’t using my affection as a means of control. My former best friend turned girlfriend loved the idea of loving me. She loved writing poems about love. She still loves writing articles for autostraddle about how brave it was that she loved a person with depression and anxiety. She also loved being abusive and manipulative. She loved so much, but she said never loved me and thought it was laughable that I thought I was lovable.Squishy reminds me that I’m worth loving.