I'm sorry, Teddy Ruxpin. in anticlimatic

When I was a kid, at night, I’d pretend my bed was a pod of protection floating through space and I’d draw all of my stuffed animals near and imagine a type of eternity where we, my stuffed animals and I, could be together safely forever. I remember laying them down on the pillow next to me in a little row, and I remember reflecting that I was the only one left in the world that cared about what happened to them, and if I didn’t look out for them and keep them safe no one would, and as I was falling asleep I would make vows to myself to keep them protected.

Of course, like my lego collection, my comic book collection, and my vinyl collection- somewhere along the way they got lost or discarded, and are likely nestled hundreds of feet deep in a landfill as we speak. I still think about them sometimes in bed at night. Their sweet stuffed animal faces in a row on the pillow next to me looking up at the quiet ceiling of my childhood bedroom. I feel like I let them down.