My Savage Beast.

It's once again around that time of the night where I am procrastinating sleep. And of course, like all nights, I am keeping myself busy with pointless things to do. One of these pointless things is washing my pillow and blanket, along with the bear that my best friend Shane gave to me on the day of my graduation. He told me that he figured I would be getting a lot of graduation bears, so he gave me a Valentines Day one instead. It has hearts on its ears and feet with a red bow tied around its neck, and it's the cutest bear I have ever seen. I named it my Savage Beast since I love irony, and every night since May 28, I've slept with it by my side. At first it was to comfort me as Shane left for Cali so that I didn't feel so alone while he was gone. But after that, I just couldn't bear (haha) not to sleep with it. It's gotten to the point where if I lay down at night and don't have it, I notice that something is missing. My arms feel empty, and suddenly I go into panic mode, tearing the place up until I find it. Funny, how such a simple stuffed animal can cause so much anxiety.

Tonight, as I was putting my blanket and pillow in the washer, I took a good, long look at my bear. Should I wash it? I asked myself. I decided to smell it, and it didn't smell bad. Maybe not tonight, I thought. But then I took another look at it. It used to be snow white, and now it was starting to lose that beautiful color. The fur was becoming dull, and with great sadness, I put him in with my other sleeping items. My little Savage, submerged in water... I was going to drown the poor thing. I closed the lid and looked at all of the dials for the washer, turning them to the right settings. I was going to set the speed to normal, but then I thought about Savage in the water. So tiny and fragile. I switched the knob to delicate, because he was delicate to me. I did not want to imagine him being thrashed around against the sides of the machine. Now I think about him in there and remind myself that he's a stuffed animal. But I love him, and that makes a difference. I love him because Shane gave him to me, and because I know Shane loves me just as I love him. Our friendship is special, and I feel like when I have the bear while he isn't around, he still is. It puts my mind at ease.

Shane is a special guy to me. I'm realizing tonight as he visits his dad across the United States that he's the only one that I can really talk to about what's going on in my life. He's the only friend I can trust, and the only one who I feel really listens to me and knows what to say, even if I don't want to hear the truth. He's the only one who makes promises that I know he'll keep. He's the only one who calls me just to talk about his day, and someone who would rather see me than text me. That's special to me. And even now, I'm wanting to call him and tell him about my day, how I feel, what's going on. I find it amazing how much I miss him with it only being 2 days since his departure, and it's hard to talk to someone who is many miles away and has little to no communication. But I think that's when you know you have a good friendship; when you drive yourself crazy because there is no one else to sane you down because they aren't here to do it. I think that keeping those people on your mind and looking forward to them returning this badly proves just how much you, alone, can't get through life. You need help sometimes.

I wait for Savage to finish up washing, but I also know that he will be awhile because he is delicate and he needs special care. I can relate him to the friendship Shane and I both share, because although we can be pretty crazy together and laugh at things that shouldn't even be that funny, we have the same delicacy as Savage does. We are breakable. We do care too much sometimes. And we need a special setting just as Savage does. I know that if either of us ever abused the other, we'd completely fall apart. And that's what I feared tonight as I set Savage into the washer. I feared that the water would not be kind, that the machinery would not be kind, and that it would tear him apart limb by limb. Still, even if it did happen, I would fix him to the best of my ability, and I would love him just the same as before.

I think that we need to step back and really appreciate the bears in our lives. The ones who need unconditional love even if they fall apart. The ones who try to show a rough exterior but have soft, raw insides. Some might say I'm too old for a bear. But I love him, and you're never too old to love.

I hope to someday look at my bear; look at it and see that it's falling apart, but know that it's only doing so because I loved it to pieces. And then I hope to look at the friendship Shane and I have, to look at us growing older and wearing down, and realize that it's only because we loved each other through the rough and the fun times; to know that we lived a little and never gave up on each other. I want to know that I have a friendship that will carry me through all of the time that I need it, and that it will always keep. I need a promise to depend on; something that can't shatter into a million pieces like I'm used to.


I'm amazed that such a small stuffed animal has become such a huge part of my life; such a huge comfort to have around, and what amazes me the most is the wonderful person who gave it to me. Without him, I don't know what I'd ever do, and I'm so thankful that I've finally found a person who doesn't mind me at my worst. It's because of Shane that I can smile again, because now I know that I have someone who will stick by my side, even if there is nothing left of me, and that's all I've ever really needed. So thanks, Shane, for always making the time to be here. I couldn't ask for anything better than our friendship.