Dudes, its me, Bug.
Its tough for me to admit this, but I have a problem. I’m a hoarder.
I want to say I don’t know how it got this bad, but that would be a lie. I’ve always been this way. I used to blame the moms for being enablers and buying me countless new babies, but that would just be an easy excuse. It’s important that I confront the tough realities of my addiction.
Even when I was just a mini-bug I had to be ears deep. I’d start playing with one, then another. Then another. Before I knew it I couldn’t stop. I’d have four, five, sometimes even six babies surrounding me and still felt like I needed more.
I was completely out of control. Sometimes the moms would find me passed out in my bed, surrounded by half chewed, soulless babies. Their bodies limp, stuffing on the floor, squeakers just ghosts of the past. I was a monster.
I lost my ability to connect personally with my babies. I was so focused on where the next one was coming from and how I was going to get my paws on it’s squeaker that I hardly even remembered their faces anymore. I was consumed.
A few weeks ago my brother Tank held an intervention for me. He gathered all my babies, including my oldest friend, Cat R. Pillar, and confronted me about my problem. It has been a tough road, but I’m focused on just taking it day by day.
Thanks for letting me open up, it feels good to unload.
Stay cool my babies.