No, I haven't been sitting in my closet. I've been laying in my bed doped up on antibiotics and fever medicine; sneezing my brains out and drinking EmergenC.
I don't know if this happens to all people or just me, but when I get sick, I get motivated.
I think it's because I know I can't do anything about it.
The nightstand of a sick person. Tissues, tea, honey, heating pad...sounds about right.
His name's Beary.
He was given to me by someone that loved me beeeeeeaaaaary much at the time.
Beary’s been with me through allergies, colds, weird stomach viruses, skin infections, heartbreak, change, pain, loss, and everything in between since February 14th, 2010.
He’s my Velveteen Rabbit. Only I will never burn him to get rid of the germs. Ever.
I sleep with Beary every night. He’s a Grade-A cuddler. He went with me to the beach, twice, to Tucson, Arizona, friend’s houses, and he’ll go with me to my first day of college if the size of my bag allows.
He represents consistency, and a time in my life where there was one thing I could always count on. I know that he’ll always be there, roses in hand, to help me get through life’s little battles. He reminds me that on Valentine’s Day of last year, I was beeeeeeaaaaary beary loved. And as corny/cheesy/geeky as it sounds: we all need that reminder sometimes.