I remember now, or do I?

I just remembered my blog.

When I was two my grandma gave me a teddy bear. No I don't remember this I just know the story, shh now and listen.
He was (is) a rusty orange, he is a flat bear whose arms stick straight up and legs straight down and he wears a bib (for spillings) that is navy blue, with a thin red trim, and a red apple on it, with one leaf. He has a leather nose. He squeaks, but you have to know where to push. And he dances, but you have to know how to hold him.
One time he needed open heart surgery so he has a vertical line up his tummy, but that was later.
When I was two, mum took me to the doctor, teddy under arm.
If I was good, and didn't squeal or squirm too much, after seeing the doctor, I got dried apricots.
Dried apricots were and are still one of my favourite, favourite things to eat.
Well, so the story goes, that on coming out from the doctors surgery with teddy under arm and apricot in hand the nurse at reception says to me in singsong for children type voice:
"What do you have there!?" Meaning the teddybear.
And I, at two, said: Apricot.
And hence, my bears name is Apricot.

I still have this bear and I have taken him to every single country, home and bed I've ever lived in. THe one time I forgot him, when I went to visit my boyfriend of a very tumultous long distance relationship in Wanaka, and we broke up. And BOY DID I WANT THAT apricot.
Hadn't I been good?

When I am 12 I have a friend from school, Alex. Alex is smart and arty and we are in Mr Dobson's painting class together. She has a pencil sharpener in the shape of a crocodile. He is called snappy the aligator. Alex pulls faces just like a fish. I call her Fishy. I still call her Fishy and this is 16 years ago. Some things stick. In third form Alex and I personally hand write and staple together a book called 'The Rules'.
This book is an adolescent girls perception on what it is okay, and what it is not okay, to DO.
ie. do not be Hazel Uzmar. (school geek much unfairly picked on).
I thought I kept that book, but we lost it. It's existence to our shameful judgemental smallmindness is hideous proof.
One day, I visit Alex at her mums house down the big hill road past where you get books cheap from the publishing company.
On her bed is a rusty orange teddybear, flat, with arms that stick up and legs that are sticking out (As it is sitting) and a blue bib, with red trim, and a red apple. And he squeaks.
And I can't quite get my head around it.

That's a little bit what reading my old blog is like, seeing the other apricot.
I think it's me, that girl on these pages. She does look exactly the same, maybe a little newer, cleaner, maybe you can't see the verticle scar. And yet... it's NOT me.

Oh I don't know.