If so, welcome back! How have you been?

Which has resulted:

Me being conscience during the operation (I blame ADHD meds, it wasn´t that bad).

General Pain in the Mouth region.

A stomache.

which resulted in my hurling.

And worst of all...
...I COULDN´T PLAY WARFRAME TODAY

(Actually the hurling was the worst part.)

Being in Israel and of Jewish descent and whatnot, so the only difference I feel is that everybody abroad is acting so slow. People are away, etc.
*shrugs*

I got a load of shirts and books and things (my Christmas tree was made of books), but what really made it was my girlfriend getting me an embroidered, ridiculously soft stuffed tiger and rhino. Their names are, in my usual imaginative vein, Tiger and Rhino, or occasionally Striped Friend and Pointy Friend.

Stuffed animals are good. They're friends when you're too young to really know what friends are. They're there, and they never stop being there, even after they've all but disintegrated from years of snuggles. I adore them. I've lost a lot over the years due to my parents thinking I'd outgrown them (At twenty-three, you say? What a preposterous notion), but I remember them. Big Bear, an enormous polar bear I'm willing to swear blind I learned to read while sitting in; Rooball, a kangaroo who could fold up inside a soft felt rugby ball; Mister Octomapus, who is still up in my nana's house safe from parental depredations; Duck, who was a big fluffy mallard duck; Steggle, the green and white striped stegosaurus whose species name I insisted on pronouncing stegglesaurus until... well, frankly I still do it sometimes when in a whimsical mood; Professor Wol, who has emerged from his hiding place behind a filing cabinet and is sitting next to me.

But you had a favourite. You always had a favourite. Wombat was mine. He was my Wombat. He still is. He's... he's staying with my girlfriend now because it's not a safe environment for stuffed animals at my parents' house. And he's old, and his fur is slowly leaving him, and he's missing an eye from when I was playing with him at my uncle's house and he slipped out of my hands and bounced around on a stone floor. And he's my favourite, because he's mine, and he's been mine since I was less than two years old, and I remember my mother telling me bedtime stories of him being a Gallifreyan Time Lord who went on adventures in the back of the black sofa we had in our living room.

He's my friend and I love him, and it's probably pathetic but it's background information for why the introduction of Striped Friend and Pointy Friend left me crying with happiness. Because that's what you should have at Christmas, and all the rest of the year too.

Something soft and safe and precious you can hold when the world's too much for you to take.