REPLACED AT NIGHT

REPLACED AT NIGHT

It is now three years since I graduated but I have held on to the bear despite replacing the donor.  It was in my first year when he gave me this dead bear assuming it’s a teddy bear.The dead bear will leave a small space in between my two pillows where it used to wait for me late in the night. The time I would come home to hold o and or play with it. I would tell it stories, mostly of the men of my life. The dead bear has heard a lot; it has recorded all my experiences since my freedom to mingle was granted. It has heard of all the outings, the rape, the kisses, the caress, love making and Cumming.

The light brown dead bear has a black nose that I have kissed in all my happy days. Its two black eyes seem to bubble with hidden emotions and information. Yes, it has endured all my blows during all my disappointments. Whenever I learnt that ‘he is married’ or ‘in a serious relationship’ down the blows rained. On some occasions I throw it away when it hits me that ‘he just used me’. The reason I also toss it in the air and allow it to land with a thud and relish the grumbling noise of the beads that fill its stomach.

I have landed severally, laid flat like an envelop. But I chose a long time ago not to remain on the ground. I have always risen up above the troubles that men bring to me. But i have retained this dead bear over the years. I am throwing it away because of the misfortunes that it has brought in my life. I blame it for all the mistakes that I committed even though i was the one who made the choices, i feel that this dead bear was there, just watching me as i drowned my life. It never said anything when i cried after receiving my first slap. It did not warn me when he did not pick my call on a Friday night. It never stopped me from calling him ten times for ten days.

The ironies of this dead bear ignite passions of hate inside of me. I hate its red bow tie —the kind that I have always wished a man should wear when taking me out. But I have loved feeling the velvet red bow tie with my fingers. Just below it, there are two tiny green ribbons that I like too because they lead me to the emptiness of the dead bear. They remind me that it is just a doll. They have helped me recognize its barrenness and, more so, that of its donor. However, when I play with it like a bean bag, this dead bear reminds me of those days of romance.

Its fur that is neither red nor white may lack clarity of appearance because, may be, of the day that I received it. Its soft, dark-brown palms help me to hold it nicely when I mockingly dance to some of the songs that have never been dedicated to me.  The soft palms console me, from the hard arms that have held me tightly for a short period of time. I dislike the arms since they do not have any strength or energy. They just move when i move them. They do not hold me even for a short time. They do not cover my slim brown hands. I hold on to them just for a dance. Yet the dead bear does not even know how to dance. It just follows me because i hold on its arms.

The dead bear drives me mad because it never says anything to me. Yet sometimes I find comfort in it because I know it cannot tell me lies. But I am sad since it cannot make me promises. It cannot protect or prevent me from doing anything. The bear is useless just like its lifeless nature. The more I think about it the more I am convinced I should not have kept it.

I have grown tired of the emotional turmoil of moving from one extreme to another. Although this dead bear was not given to me on a valentine day, I choose to divest it on this valentine. I chose to dispose with it the unauthorized affairs that i have had over the years. I chose to throw away all the empty promises that keep making noise in my head. I choose to throw it away with the tears that come on my way whenever i try to find love. I chose to get rid of all the attachments that i have had with any man that i have loved in my life. I choose to just throw it all away from me.