Last night I started burning holes into my clothes and had to have the lighter taken out of my hands like a child.
Today I woke up in an armchair with my shoes still on.
As I drove back home at 6 am, I considered passing my house and driving until I ran out of gas.
I pulled into my driveway instead, fed the cats, and crawled into bed.
I looped my finger through the new hole in my favorite tights and sighed into sleep for six more hours.
I heaved myself off my mattress for a breakfast burrito with Tania and drove in the rain to restorative yoga with Keely later on.
She said it would be good for me.
As I let my body get heavy on the mat, the sound of the water splashing and the cars driving through it made me picture the room breaking off from the ground and floating away into the ocean.
An ark full of flexible women in expensive stretchy pants.
I lived in this imaginary scenario for a while and I could feel myself rocking.
And then I started thinking about how, as we get older, we don't allow ourselves to pretend.
It bummed me out until I promised myself I would never be that kind of adult.
In the middle of class the instructor read a quote from the Velveteen Rabbit.
"'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.”
Keely was right.