As I snuggle my raccoon plush, I feel nothing but the synthetic fur against my skin, and the stuffing inside.
As I sob into the fur, I hear no words of comfort with my ears.
As I wipe my tears with my sleeve, I see nothing but blackness.
"What're you crying for?" says a little boy's voice - though my ears hear nothing.
"Because you're not here, Timothy" I reply.
"Yes I am!" squeaks the little boy.
"You're here spiritually, but not physically" I answer, wiping my tears into the synthetic fur of my raccoon plush.
"If you really were here, I'd be able to hear you with my ears rather than my brain. I'd be able to snuggle with you and hear you sniffle when you're upset, and hear you giggle when I tickle you. If you were here you'd want to go and ride your little red bike with training wheels, and I'd take you everywhere I could, but you're not here. You're just a figment of my imagination, and you always will be" I say, struggling to hold back the tears.
Then I hear nothing, not even with my brain. The only thing I hear is a helicopter taking off outside my window, and the sound of my suffering heart. Why aren't you here, Timothy? Why can't I hug you and hear you say: "I love you" in your innocent little voice. Why can't I take you for a bike ride, why can't I take you swimming? Why can't I hold your paw and walk with you down the street. Because I'm kidding myself, I live in a world where no magic of that kind exists. I live in a world where there is little comfort. I live in a world where furry animals are wild. I live in a world that only allows you to exist in my imagination. As I say "I love you Timothy" into your ear, I wonder if you can even hear me. The only way I can hear you is through my brain.
I snuggle my raccoon plush again and rub his back, I kiss his cheek and snuggle with him as I would with my Timothy.
"I love you Timothy, with all my heart"
This is the whimpers of a suffering heart of a young furry, whose only desire is to snuggle his best friend.
6 years, 7 months ago
15 May 2012 07:57 CEST