(the final, and extraordinarily late, Februarium entry – with help from the Velveteen Rabbit.)

“What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room…

"It's a thing that happens to you,” said the Skin Horse. “When (someone) loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

I think I love because it provides me with a degree of identity. You are what, and who, you love. When you’re around the object of your affection, it’s all over you like a cheap suit – no use hiding it. People see it. It marks you.

I love because… well, it’s not exactly as if I have a choice. I could no more choose not to love the things I do than choose not to breathe.

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

Love isn’t easy. It can cause no end of anguish, really. But oh, the payoff. It really is worth being hurt. Give me heartbreak over loneliness any day. I love in spite of the pain.

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept…

I love because it broadens me, it opens my mind to new possibilities and ways of thinking. You see things from a different and new point of view when you love.

"(O)nce you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

I love because it’s a beautiful thing. I wear it extremely well, as does everyone. It makes both me and the object of my affection... well, let's just say far better looking than we actually are.

"…Once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."

I love because it’s both constant and changing – the degree of love (infatuation, adoration, affection) may change, but once love exists, it’s there. Change it may, but once it’s there, it’s forever.

The Rabbit’s right. Love makes you real. I love because it makes me real.

Here ends Februarium.