The shocking realization that stuffies aren’t friends.

Mind you Papa is not happy about this.

When I’m upset I do three things. I get a stuffy, I little out, and I want my Daddy.

So what did I do when our partner died. I got my stuffy, I tried to little out, I went to Papa.

I’ve identified as a little for over a year. I didn’t change who I was before learning that label, I just realized I was a little and that I had a place in the community.

But for the first time ever, I can’t really feel my little side. In 22 years of living, I’ve always had it. Even through all the abuse and craps when I was a kid. Through the messy start of Papa and my D/s relationship. I never lost that inner feeling.

So I got my stuffy. I cuddle him. I talked to him. I did everything that makes me feel better.

I looked at snoogles today and all I saw was a sock . A silly stufffed sock. And I was stupid enough to call that sock a friend.

And that hurt. For the last 8 mon, hs he’s been my friend and cuddle buddy. I cry when I forget him and even tried to make him my work buddy.

But I sat there looking at him. He has a heart. Buts it’s a silly thing from the store. He has a voice. But it’s a silly box with Papa’s voice saying” I love you”.
He’s a big lump of squishy fluff.

I’ve argued with people over whether or not stuffies can be friends and part of the family. I’ve told them they were mean and silly for saying I was being childish for loving my Stuffies so much.

And as I sat there hurting and my stuffy wasn’t fixing it, I realized, Papa and I made the stuffy at Build A Bear. He can’t move, he can’t talk, he can’t do anything without a person. So Stuffies aren’t friends, they are things. They can’t fix nothing because the world is broken.


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