It appears these things have seen better days like that old teddy bear that ended up in the wash and lost his eye. I prefer him that way. It gives him character like that scar on my leg that's fading as each day passes. I like the marks and things that appear as we enter different stages of our lives. It’s like my stories are written on my skin and only those who are close are in the know. I like secrets. The harmless ones that at are not for everyone. The ones that are for us to keep and to show each other under the covers when night falls. But I can't seem to wake you these days. No matter what I do. You are walking around in a some sort of deep sleep and there is nothing I can do to save the mess that has been created. And so I drift into memories of the D and T cupboard at primary school and remember how time just stopped when I was in there. Rummaging around in all the boxes and realising that nothing else mattered. The peaceful safety of my own world. Its filled with pipe cleaners, empty tubes and old cardboard boxes that were patiently waiting, ready to be transformed into something new. I will transform them in my dreams also. Hoping to reach you there and bring you back to where we belong. I hear the water running and I prepare to jump in. I'll wait for you there in my old bath tub until I'm old and wrinkly. But I'm scared you will never come back to me. But I will call your name and wait...
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.