#how we turn animals into just tails and ears

Past Self

It’s impossible not to feel like we’re slipping back into childhood with a lot of this. It’s the same systems, bubbling up to the surface like so much carbonation, and implemented with all the nonchalant lack of care of people in love. We do it because it feels good, and to hell with whatever consequences that might have. 

Hide and seek skirts around the edges while the occasional food fight spurts in the center. Half mumbled comments and strict bedtimes, spontaneous curfews and all those rules. Rules bursting at the seams of your clothes, rules dribbling out of your ears. It’s no wonder that you regress a little bit. It’s no wonder I accelerate through maturity, find myself displaying a flair for the authoritarian keeper, rather than the whimsical twenty something.

But there’s the thing; it’s all just paradigms crashing into each other, and they all fall away like waves anyway. Things rise and fall, and none of them stick around all that long. Sometimes you notice the childishness, and othertimes you’re utterly lost in it. And as much as it might make you uneasy to see your adulthood slip away in the middle of a scene, it’s taking with it all those things you can’t stop fretting about. Your worries and your fears, all the little things that build and build until you’re just about ready to dissolve into a puddle of sex. 

Which is handy, as that just so happens to be my line of work.