#marsu

Pam, my Marsu girl, is ready for the show !

Lately, I’ve felt something new stirring inside me—a deep, warm instinct I can only describe as parental. It’s not something I planned or even fully understand, but it’s there, strong and undeniable. It’s like a part of me woke up, as if my instincts—my Marsupilami instincts—were calling me to care for something, to nurture, to protect.

I see the world differently now, through a lens of responsibility and affection. I find myself yearning for something small to hold, something that needs me, something that fits into the space in my arms like it was always meant to be there. It’s not just about ownership—it’s about connection. I want something to dote on, to fuss over, to make safe. It’s an instinct deeper than words, more natural than thought.

That’s why I bought this little Marsupilami plush. The moment I saw it, something inside me clicked—it was mine. Not as an object, but as something I’m meant to care for. I can already imagine how it’ll feel in my arms, soft and warm, how its little face will look up at me, waiting for my attention. I’ll fix its fur when it gets messy, make sure it has a safe place to sit, and—without a doubt—I’ll talk to it like it understands me. Maybe it does, in a way.

This isn’t just some passing interest or a cute little phase. It’s instinctual. It’s right. I don’t just want to care for this plush—I need to. And when it arrives, I know I’ll feel more complete. Because this feeling, this pull to nurture, is a part of me. And I intend to follow it.

I should stop doing 1/3rd to the right perspective

Working in the boatyard