Are why I don't want to write every day. Numbed. Nothing pushing me forward except obligation. I want to eat dark chocolate peanut butter cups and watch the final episodes of Girls. I want to lean back with an essay collection, a sleek Weimaraner and a minted fresh lemonade in a garden apartment in Brooklyn's bourgeoise Cobble Hill. I want to steal back the morning and sleep in with Ruffy, my trusty stuffed animal pup since I found him under the Christmas tree, red ribbon around his neck. I was eight. I know I've held onto him for too long. I know I shouldn't give his snout a kiss before I turn out the light. I know I'm not supposed to tell you any of this. But kissing Ruffy is like kissing my childhood. And sometimes, so is writing.