Yesterday was an incredibly miserable day, for no reason in particular. I just felt extremely antsy, and intensely lonely, and nothing I could do would change it. Far too much of the night was spent walking around the house, wondering how I could get my mind on something else. Eventually, I decided to go to Wal-Mart.
At the very least, I figured I'd pick up some laundry detergent, and however inane it might've been, I knew I was at least getting out of the house. Little did I know how many thoughts the trip around the store would inspire.
In the video department, I saw The Care Bears Movie on DVD. I'd always liked the Care Bears when I was a kid and I started remembering how I used to color pictures of them with special fabric crayons. Of course, I didn't know they were fabric crayons when I was a kid. I just knew that my granny would take the ones we'd done and put them on pillows which she'd sew together. They were special. I hadn't thought about those or the specialness they had in years, and it was a pleasant, comforting feeling to remember it.
I picked up the DVD and started thinking how I was old enough to buy it now without anyone questioning me. I could've been buying it for my little girl. Heck, I could've always been buying it for my sister, and no one would've ever cared anyway, but I began remembering that time in my life when it was utterly important for me to fit into the mold of the heterosexual boy. Care Bears were not within that realm, no matter what age I was.
Walking around the store, I then came upon the pet department and thought briefly about getting a 28 cent goldfish. Then, looking at the small plastic cases, I realized just how miserable an existence he would have. The parallel between his life and mine bit hard. That Care Bear glow was instantly squished.
And so I headed back the house, somewhere in between the two thought extremes, and I put on my Care Bears DVD. I didn't really watch it, but there was something comforting about having it play, nonetheless.