The Velveteen Rabbit, Margery Williams
By Lake_Frog
“What does ‘real’ even mean?” Rabbit asked one day while they were just hanging out near the nursery fender, before Nana came in to fix everything up. He was basically wondering if it’s like having something buzzing inside you and one of those handle things. Skin Horse didn’t answer the way Rabbit expected. It said real isn’t about how you’re built—it’s something that happens when a child loves you for a long, long time, like actually loves you and not just grabs you to play with. Then you turn into “real.” Rabbit asked if it hurts, and Skin Horse said yeah, sometimes. But that once you’re real, you don’t mind the hurt as much. Then Rabbit asked if it’s all at once, like winding up, or more like slowly. Skin Horse said it’s slow—takes a long time—so it doesn’t happen to people who are easily breakable or have sharp edges, or who need to be handled super carefully. And by the time you’re real, you’re kind of worn down: hair mostly gone, eyes dropping out, joints getting loose, looking shabby. Still, none of that matters, because once you’re real you can’t be ugly—except to people who don’t get it.