A sort of insomnia has claimed my night. Sitting in bed, laying next to the teddy bear I’ve loved since I was little, a penny to remind me of him, and my phone, of course. Sex and the City playing on my tv. Season five, Carrie dates the city the whole time.
My mom didn’t want me to take Buddy with me when I went to Chicago, but now that I have him, I am realizing that there is a point at which the teddy bear you’ve loved since forever has to go. And I will never reach it. I told him that Buddy was falling apart, and he told me he’d buy me a new one. That’s the thing, though, nothing can replace him, not ever. He’s the grossly gray, ripped and see-through love of my life. He’s here with me, he smells like home, and I love him. And if he buys me a new one, I’ll add him him next to my other pillows, but he won’t ever be Buddy. Maybe.
I also can’t wait. Nine days until Oregon. I’ve been sitting here lately, contemplating my life, reading old issues of Cosmopolitan, thinking about him. And me. And where we’re going. I’ve done the lists, of pros and cons, added them up, weighed risks and counted my options. And after all of that, I’m not done yet. I’m going to give this my all.
Too much thinking and not nearly enough thought.
But…before I go, I will add to my strange new optimistic outlook on love.
Don’t judge me. You were in love once. Or maybe you still are.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
~William Shakespeare, Mid-Summer Night’s Dream, 1595
Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Wind, Sand and Stars, 1939, translated from French by Lewis Galantière
We loved with a love that was more than love. ~Edgar Allan Poe