What a QuaranTIME to be Alive

bear.   his name is bear. he's missing his pink bow, but he is still bear. bear sits on my bed, right next to my pillow. he is there when i lie awake at night, tossing and turning feeling like the world is ending wondering why we couldn't hold on. i still have the elephant you got me from your hometown. the one made of wood with a baby elephant inside. i keep it on my desk, under the shelves. its eyes seem to follow me every time i pace the room, worn out but resolute, knowing that we couldn't hold on.  i still have the notebook with our birthday blessings in it. the one in which, on a whim, we decided to  take turns blessing each other  every time a birthday rolled around. i hope the blessings still remain even though we broke like the pen that spilt ink all over centuries-old parchment. it was inevitabe that we couldn't hold on. i still have the inferiority complex i got from being the odd one out for 10 years. it sits right next to my impostor syndnrome and my consta