The Bear/Bare Necessities

I have a problem. A very serious one it is. I don’t know how to spell bare/bear, like in ‘I couldn’t bare/bear it if I was told never to eat chocolate again.’

I am very sure about the naked one. That bare I can do. And the fluffy cuddly bear I am certain of, too. I should be, I spent years kissing him on his golden nose, tucking him in, and wishing him sweet dreams. He was my mum’s bear before he became mine, and I still have him. I don’t do the whole tucking in thing anymore though, and he’s moved from prime place on my bed. His name is, very originally, Teddy. I also had a donkey called Donkey, a mouse called Mrs Mouse, and a penguin whose name I forget. I’m thinking perhaps he was called Penguin.

I stray. So, being as emotionally erratic highly emotional sensitive as I am, I often find myself unable to bare/bear things, and, frustratingly, unable to write about it because I don’t know how to spell it.

The things that worry one on a Monday.

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