a masochists memoir

it didn't start out in my bed. I left it propped up in the corner of my room, along with the tennis racket and the piece of wood trim 😅
and then one night, in my tears and loneliness, I got up and grabbed it.
i didn't feel so alone anymore. I slid it under my pillow, where my hands usually lay when I get all snuggled in. I could feel you radiate from it and at the risk of feeling silly, I reached over and wrapped my little fingers around it.
I felt safe, like nothing could ever get me or hurt me - the same way I feel when I'm with you.
it's been under my pillow every night since, with both hands wrapped around it, clinging to that feeling every night when I drift off.