A 22-year-old experiential education facilitator by-way-of art school, employee of an Ivy, vegetarian, procrastinator, and rock-climbing wilderness first responder living in picturesque rural New Jersey. She's holding her breath as she tests her clumsy legs post-college.
To the bunny rabbits whom it concerns: Seriously? Why must you be some welcoming? So full of polyester fiber-fill and well-worn? And, full-size-bed, I must say you let yourself go during finals; Food wrappers, pill bottles, a half-consumed bottle of Manischevitz and paperwork abound. I mean, it's me and you and the junk on your top. Granted, you are also my vanity where I spend more time than is unembarrasing to admit plucking, trimming, manicuring, shaping, and painting my own face. And as much as I love you and will miss you over the next five weeks, let's not make this harder than it has to be. Enfolded lovingly by every fiber of your soul I relaxed from finals with Dharma & Greg and Tim, Jill, Randy, Mark, and Brad. I wrote my papers, artists statements, studied chanoyu, and then picked at my toenails some more. I'm sorry, but I need a break. I'm neglecting my studio, my desk, heck, even my shower stall is not as spic-and-span as I would like. So, as comfortable and right as I feel with you, my red-and-white Swedish cotton bunnahs, I've got to move on. I've got to do dishes, vacuum, and clean out my fridge, and get ready for going home on Sunday. Maybe five weeks will be enough for me to figure out the balance I need to strike in my relationship with you, but I can't know unless I leave. I'm sorry, I hope we can someday be friends again. Say, in five weeks?