the pink blanket

I have a blanket I bought at Sam’s Club. I didn’t need a blanket, but it was so soft I had to have it.

One morning he had a seizure. I did all the things, put him to bed. Then the adrenaline dump came. I found that blanket, still in the shopping bag. I wrapped it around myself and silently released the ugly emotions. I stayed in that blanket the remainder of the day.

5 years later I still have that blanket. It’s old, dingy, and straight up gross. I fucking love that nasty bitch. She’s the dingiest thing I own. I fucking love her. I just bought the same exact blanket and I go to sleep with the new one. I wake up with the old one. I love her.

I think I’m attached to her and my couch because I wasn’t an attached kid. I didn’t feel safe around the time I got that blanket. Around the time I started to reparent myself. I finally feel safe enough to be attached to things.