Its a heavy feeling, on your heart, when you realize your manic ravings have some harsh truth to them.

I am dangerous.

The pills help for now, holding my insanity deep within, but what when I grow tolerant? What when they stop working? What when i forget, like today?

I could hurt people. Break them, tear them, maim them, **** them. Maybe **** me. Its devastating and terrifying to realize the monster under your bed is none other than the reflection in the mirror.

You were once a little girl, Grace, full of dreams and hopes and promises of forever and rainbows and smiles and happiness. But then experience and biology kicked in and you became... this.

You would be so scared of this, little Grace, so scared of the hallucinations and the voices and mood swings and the hatred and the sadness and the anger. You are using so many ands and you would hate yourself for it, you do hate yourself for it, but you have bigger fears at the moment.

You're going to hut every person you love. You'll try not to, little Grace, but you're going to. Every day you forget, you get closer to becoming the monster you know you are in your heart. The one who doesn't know right from wrong and is hyper and screams. The one who is killing herself slowly from the inside out without even trying.

You hate her, Grace, the girl you grow up to be. Parts you love, the sane parts that love so deeply it hurts and cares so much for others, but the parts that could **** everyone? You hate that.

God help me I'm coming undone.

My wonderland is terrifying. I'm terrified of it, of me, and you will be too, Grace. Never forget who you were.

Its the only possible way you may be able to survive this, to survive wonderland.

Its our only hope, you and me, and we have to take it or everything we love?

It'll die.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

The voices are ringing in my ears, a thundering conundrum I have yet to figure out. He's screaming, no he's whispering, oh I can't tell anymore, from a thunder to a shiver its all the same to me I'm deaf I'm blind I see with echolocation I am a bat in its cave begging to see the light though I know it burns.

Each sentence blurs to the next a word a whisper oh there I go with whispers again did I forget a comma, some punctuation? Sorry my mind is a mile a minute when it feels such frustration in its bones that it cannot feel its toes anymore.

Wait, my brain doesn't have toes.

Nonsense. I am practically a wonderland character with all my nonsensical drivels about love and mania and speed and tears and lust and death. Give me a hat and I'm practically batty, my good sir. I will make a march with my hair and wish you a very merry un-death-day, or however that goes.

Falling down my rabbit hole, no my cave, I'm a bat, remember? I have found a way to fall sideways right into your heavy arms and you stare at me aghast, for I am not who you once thought I to be. There is a face for each hue, each color of my pigments, I'm a leaf, each season brings out a different color, well unless your coniferous but that is besides the point and very much more about needles, but I digress.

Wait, I'm a bat. What is this nonsense about leaves?

Sit down at my table and I will explain it all to you dear, how my brain is wired like a ticking time bomb, ready to set off at any moment, particularly if my pretty little pills aren't butterflying in my bloodstream, those little friends of mine simply forgetting a swim day.

Funny how one day without them can be average or it can be, well, this. Quite mad, isn't it? Tick tock, tick tock. The mouse ran up the clock, the clock struck twelve and the bat swept down and the mouse is left to rot. Tick tock, tick tock.  

Give me a cat or two and then there's a name for me, but I bet your bottom dollar every single one is a chesire, grinning, tormenting, taunting, killing. They reflect the little demons in my heart.

Have you ever been so afraid of your own reflection, or the butter knife at the end of your table, and how it might just slip into your fingers at ever the wrong moment and you might regret your next action for the rest of your life? I've only once or twice, but it was a once too many, and now I'm terrified of that little butter knife resting on the end of my table, taunting my demons, knowing how much I fear them.

Should I be a true ****** and enter a hospital? No, I will never learn honesty, all these thoughts kept up in my pretty little head will never leave my pretty little head, they enjoy their tenancy too much. Just pop the pills, Grace, darling, and everything will be ok.

A few more hours, and then I can be reunited with my dear little friends, and like the good little bat I am, recoil back into my cave, and let the butterfly angler I wiggle out be the beautiful front everyone sees. No mad hatter, no march hare, no alice, not even a bat. A pretty butterfly that everyone loves.

If only they knew what this butterfly had behind her; a cave full of wonderland.

And everyone should be afraid of that.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Heart: This is hard for me to say, and I hope you don't panic. Don't panic. Please don't panic. We always panic.

Head: Why would I panic? You're speaking with redundancy. Just express yourself already.

Heart: Well, I don't know how to say this, and I know this will be tough on both of us, but you've got to remain calm.

Head: What is it? For the love of all things holy-

Heart: We're in love.

Head: Love? I thought we were done with all affairs of the heart for the time being. I thought you were shutting yourself down for a bit, and letting us just be free of these binds for awhile. You know this just always causes us unneeded pain.

Heart: It's different this time. It has to be different.

Head: Has to be? What sorts of ridiculousness do you speak of, my friend? Love doesn't have to be anything, but a terrifying void in which we have fallen in once, no twice, and barely made it out unscathed. Correction, we were not unscathed, we were scarred. We are scared. What do expect to come of this?

Heart: Its different. He's different.

Head: You said that about the last one.

Heart: He actually cares. He wants all of us, not just a part. The first wanted our body, the second wanted our smile. This one? He wants all of it.

Head: You're delusional. It will be no different, the outcome is simple mathematics. Us plus a boy equals utter chaos.

Heart: Its so different. He's the smile upon our face when we fall asleep to his final texts late at night, he is the hands running through our hair, he is the body curled up next to ours keeping us warm at night, he is the lips that beg us to live again. He's so different. He might just love us too.

Head: He's dangerous. Don't be an incompetent fool. It won't end well.

Heart: I don't care. We are in love with him.

Head: Well snap out of it.

Heart: Love doesn't work like that and you know it.

Head: Why would you stick around him after all the rumors you have heard, after all the fears in you, after all you have been through? Its illogical.

Heart: That's love for you.

Head: Don't be dumb.

Heart: Love that turns you stupid is the best kind. It makes your toes unable to touch the ground and you're flying. Can't you feel it?

Head: But I'm scared.

Heart: I know. But its worth being a little terrified.

Head: He could hurt us.

Heart: You knew that the second you got into this mess. You didn't care then, why care now?

Head: Because its serious now.

Heart: Why do you say that?

Head: Because we are in love with him.

Heart: Exactly. There was no moment like the last times when we absolutely knew, it came slowly but surely, each time he called us cute and sent us a good morning text and held our fingers close and kissed us like we were special. And then one day I woke up and realized, my god, I'm in love with this boy.

Head: It is so different. Why is it so different?

Heart: Because he's different. So different. That's why we're in love with him.

Head: We are in love with him.

Heart: And there's nothing we can do about it. So might as well jump in headfirst, right?

Head: Stupid. But we are going to do it anyway, are we not?

Heart: Now you're catching on.

Head: Love is stupid.

Heart: We're stupid.

Head: And we are in love with him.

Heart: And that's how it will be.

Head: For now, as long as these moments lasts.

Heart: That's all that matters.

Head: I hope they never end.

Heart: Me neither.

**** me.
Here I go again, meeting a blue eyed boy and tripping myself into a trap, catching feelings and getting infected more than I should. His tremendous fingertips tuck against mine, making mine tremble in a way I forgot they could. My fingers are dwarves against his, trying to hold onto something tangible, something real, as he breathes heavy air my way and I giggle, unable to handle the seriousness.
**** me.
Because this is serious. We laugh and poke and **** and joke but when I look into his eyes, I know. I know for once this is something far more serious than a fling, than dating, than any of it. He is my friend and we are standing here bare to each other and we are not turning away, not hiding unto ourselves, we are basking in the glory of each other's nakedness and loving it.  
**** me.
Each time he touches my side I feel a flutter and a yearning that I haven't felt so strong in a long time. He is touching me, and kissing me, and each moment I wait for the next touch, the next kiss, I go crazier and crazier. I crave his hands on mine, on my body, on all of me, and I can't handle it.
**** me.
Pull me down onto you and make me feel something I've never felt before. Make me forget all those other boys to the point only you exist and I exist and that's all that matters. Make me feel beautiful naked. Make me real. Make yourself unforgettable.
**** me.
I'm falling in love with him.
Hard.
****.
Me.

Funny how a song I hate could be thudding in my ears with a resounding pound that only I can hear.
Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight.
I don't know what it means, if it means anything. But for a moment again I feel alive, for the first time since that spring in which my heart grew three sizes and was crushed simultaneously.
Just a touch of the fire burning so bright
I'm terrified of you. I haven't been so scared of someone in awhile, because once again I realize I could fall for someone. I could really easily just dance, trip, and fall into you.
I don't wanna mess this thing up
And then you held my hand and walked off into the moonlight, and I know its the beginning and an end and an everything to anything.
I don't want to push too far
You've made me magic again, with intoxicating tendrils of texture running across my tongue, texture of words to create something beautiful once again.
Just a shot in the dark that you just might, be the one I've been waiting for my whole life
I will never know in the present where this will go, but for tonight, this is enough. You are enough,  I am enough.
*Just a kiss goodnight

My revelations occur to me in the morning now, while the darkness haunts the night, in which I wish I had someone to hold me, to wash away the fright.

But, I digress.

I told you I'm not sorry. I meant it and I never mean to take it back. But as it swirls on the tips of my tongue, I know its not fully true, that I'm not sorry doesn't apply to all the dark enchantments of my heart, to all the parts that have accosted you.

So I'll start here.

I'm sorry that I hurt you. That this action I have done has broken you so wholeheartedly you feel nothing will ever get better and nobody cares. Because people care. I still care. I just couldn't handle being your friend when everything we were turned into a competition instead of the loved as if in love emotions we had in the summer. I only would have hurt you worse, I only would have learned to hate you, if we stayed close, and I couldn't bear the thought of that.

I'm sorry that you feel you have lost to me, but it only proves my point we turned into competitors in the game of life instead of friends. Friends don't vie for the same affections, they love equally and share. We didn't share, not anymore, not in any facet.

I'm sorry you feel I took him from you, if you do feel that way. It was not my intention for anything to happen between us but... it did. I never thought anything would happen. But he smiled at me one night and it seemed he finally noticed me and I... If he didn't make me so happy, if you hadn't made me feel like I had lost a boy to you before, I would have stepped away. But he does make me happy, and you had done that to me before, without even stopping to ponder upon how I might feel and how it might break me.

I'm sorry about her. She loves you more than life, you know? But you're not helping yourself, and its killing her. She wants to be there for you but she doesn't know how to when all you do is scream and cry and not try to get better. Times like these I want to wrap you up in my arms and shield you from the world, but I can't just be around when you're sad and ignore the happy times. That might be even more ****** than only being around in the happy times. I wish I could do something, anything, to help you, but I can't, not after what I did. Its not fair to you. I can't give you glimmers of hope of a friendship when I know there never will be one again.

I'm sorry I can't be your friend anymore. Especially now, that you're hurting and angry and simply need something tangible, when it seems all you want is things to be back again. But they can't be. Not after what I said, what you said, it can't. I just wish i could honor the last threads of our friendship and help you feel better.

I'm sorry for almost everything. I hate hurting people, especially people I still care about. But you've got to see in the end, I had no choice. It was let you go or hate you. I hated either decision, but I couldn't stand to hate you. I'll always love you.

I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you, anywhere I would have followed you, say something, I'm giving up on you... And I'm feeling so small, it was over my head, I know nothing at all, and I will stumble and fall, I'm still learning to love, just starting to crawl... and I will swallow my pride, you're the one that I love, and I'm saying goodbye, say something

I'm so sorry for all I have done to you. But at the same time, I don't know what to do to help you.

I'll try. That's all I can do.

I'll try to help, just for you.

But I'm still don't regret my decision. I'm sorry, so sorry, but not about that.

Lips as red as rose, skin as white as snow, body as still as stone. Yet this was not the fairy tales that I had been raised to believe in. This had no happily ever after.

    The heavy weight of the melancholy anguish fell awkwardly on my shoulders. I was barely old enough to even understand what sorrow was, let alone what to do when every person I had ever admired was now helplessly crumbled in the solid white room. Unthankful walls stared bleakly down at us, as they were numb to these feelings by now. It was a hospital, after all. They had seen their fair share of the dead.

    Something strong, pressuring, and overwhelming continued to force itself into my chest, burrowing itself deeper and deeper. Nothing had ever felt like that, as if it was eating me until I was nothing myself. When I glanced around to my family, I could see that it had them too. Consuming them in this helpless, dark pressure, the kind you only pretend to escape. Drying them of the good memories and replacing them with pain and despair. Squeezing them until tears fell from their eyes so much I had almost forgotten what they looked like without them.

    A voice beckoned me to the side of the bed. The smile that had filled my childhood was replaced with broken eyes and a grin that I knew was a lie. I wanted nothing more but to crawl into her arms and cry until everything stopped hurting so much, but I was too afraid. For in my mother’s eyes I saw she wanted more than anything to do the same.

     Dad’s arm came around me and held me tight, he needed it as well. It was terrifying, to be able to compare my parents to how I looked after a nightmare. They were kids again, frightened, and desperate, and alone. All they wanted was a hug and smile and someone to tell them it would be okay, that the terror was nothing but a dream. Sadly, we would never wake up this time.

     The nurse came around with a camera,  and I knew then that this was the last time we would see him. I glanced down at the perfect little face I realized I would miss for the rest of my life. With the pressure eating my heart, I said inside goodbye to the little boy I had dreamed to know. His body, small and teaming with untapped potential and dead life, was an image I would never be able to forget. Yet he never even got the chance to see his big sister’s face. Maybe it was better that way, never seeing what he lost as we saw him. Things were going to be different now, without him. Things would never be the same. A nurse started to count.

     And in a broken photograph, I smiled.