I just spent a good ten minutes frantically searching for my stuffed bear. I cannot express the relief I felt when I finally found her. I’ve had Snowey since I was a baby. I used to always sleep with her; I couldn’t go to bed if I didn’t have her. I’ve grown out of this the last few years, mostly due to getting older, I guess. But I still need her sometimes. I need something familiar to hold while I try to trick my mind into sleep. She’s still an enormous comfort, as childish as that may be. I care more about this stuffed bear than I do for a lot of people I know.