i used to have this pillow.
i have had it as early as i can remember.

my mom tried so many times to replace it,

but i would still know the difference.

 

it had a unique texture,

a distinct smell,

that of my sweat, drool,

and all of my bodily fluids.

 

once i was asked,

if it was the end of the world

and there was only one thing i could save

i answered, instantaneously:

"my pillow".

 

but it was more than just a stinky old bag of cotton.

 

it has been

my security blanket,

my punching bag,

my cushion to cry on;

 

my pretend lover,

my cuddling buddy,

my staunchest confidante,

my friend.

 

i miss that damn pillow.