"Don't Fall Away And Leave Me To Myself"

I call this the allegory of the white stuffed rabbit.

Almost a year ago, a friend of mine gave me a present. We weren't that close so it suprised me, but it was for my birthday, so I accepted it as just one of those things that happens and thanked him. I unwrapped the paper and saw a stuffed animal. A white rabbit, specifically. It was kinda cute, and I put it on my shelf in my closet where I could see it if I wanted to. In April, I started packing to go home, and the rabbit was relegated to a box and stuffed into storage, along with almost all of my possessions. I went home, had a fantastic summer, didn't want to come back (you have no idea how badly I didn't want to come back), but got on the plane anyway. As I was unpacking my things, I found my rabbit and pulled it out and set it on my bed. I was happy, and the rabbit brightened the place even more. Then things started happening, things that broke my happiness and tried me to the very limit. Every night, I would crawl into bed in defeat, and every night, I would hold the rabbit in my arms as I struggled to fall asleep. The rabbit became essential to me. I couldn't fall asleep if he wasn't in my arms, his ears snuggled under my chin. Something I hadn't really given much thought to when I had accepted it had come to mean everything to me, and I would break if he were taken away from me.

I'm writing about a stuffed rabbit that I sleep with; I think it's painfully clear that I've retreated back into a scared little girl. My rabbit is even now sitting in the crook of my arm. Is this what we do when we're reeling from the hurt and confusion--we retreat back to a pretended safety? I see marked evidence supporting that: pleading like a four-year-old with someone to like me perfectly illustrates my point.

One of the worst pains imaginable is to watch yourself being forgotten; I won't do that. At the end of things...

"But I have had your friendship--grace to you
A woman's charm has passed across my path."