Hmm…as theorized by my now deceased father, lack of any actual maternal love in my life has left me with the need to direct unattended childhood needs and affection towards something which, although inanimate and not alive, may resemble a mother figure.
I like anything soft, like pillows, cushions and big puffy comforters, and at age 27, I still hug and cuddle them and make high pitched noises in them. Yeah everyone does that every now and then, but for me it’s part of my daily ritual. It’s an obsession I’ve had ever since I was little, which back then was normal, but far from it now. It gives me strength and comfort, or at least an illusion thereof.
However it could be much worse, as undeveloped emotional factors such as this could have presented more hazardous situations, if I knew how to handle firearms.
Wow I’m so Emo.