My Fuzzy Confession

I love my teddy bear.

She is the person I trust the most. She is long suffering and patchy and all stiched up and full of trinkets I stole from my mother. A small green pendant with a fish, and a bracelet with a bell charm. I named her after a ballerina in a book. At the end of the book the girl, Tanya, who dreams of being a dancer, dances alone in her living room and her living room turns into a forest.
I want a tutu.
Tanya was an abused toy. Her glass eyes are cracked, giving them a dusty appearence. We played baseball with her and my father would put her under his windshield wipers we he drove down the highway. My beloved personified object. I liked her so much because when I looked at her tag, when she still had one, I saw we shared the same year of birth.

I am twenty. Dammit.