Teddy bear collection
I have a lot of teddy bears. In recent years I have been acquiring more deliberately. The collection is growing. I like them because they are cute and soft and feel good to hold. It’s not infantile, it’s an addiction. It’s dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin, and endorphins, the brain’s pleasure hormones. My bed is currently home to over fifty bears of various sizes. Some I bought new, some I bought at thrift stores, and some I rescued from the street. I took them home, cleaned them up, and adopted them. Some bears are lying squished under others, so to see them all needs for the futon and blanket to be lifted. Once something has eyes, then it has a soul, so I feel that the idea of just throwing any of them away akin to an abortion. That’s what I think if I see a garbage bag on the street filled with discarded stuffed animals: discarded fetuses. In addition, bears are love sponges. They absorb the love directed on them. Finally, my bears are alive like the toys in the Toy Story movies. I don’t mean that they come to life at night, or when humans aren’t around. I mean that they are always alive and simply playing inanimate in the presence of humans. I can see it in their eyes.
Some people might wonder if there is something missing in my life, for which I need teddy bears as a surrogate. I’ll tell you what’s missing - it’s teddy bears.