Ring, ring, ring, ring.

Water's running down my face, no, tears, their salt is melting into my very bones as I stare at the phone and listen to it, ring, ring, ring...

My caterpillar has finally turned into the beautiful butterfly I believed I dreamed of, only to find myself rejecting him now at every turn. His Grace has grown up, and realized his riddles and rudeness are not the love I deserve, not the one I want, not anymore.

Wonderland has changed, too. It has expounded upon itself, growing larger with newer faces, faces I'm growing to love and cherish more than old.

In the whispering hours of Wonderland, a New Frabjous Face takes my hand and tell me to run with him, and I do. We run and dance and even when the rain is pouring he is still holding my hands and my face and telling me to run and breathe and live so beautifully.

My caterpillar never held my hand in the rain, he always disappeared into the clouds with his booming voice, judging and screaming about his own struggles while I was drowning in mine. Wonderland tends to flood.

Forecast for now though is sunlight with a slight overcast of whimsy.

After the New Frabjous Face, I feel more comfortable in the rain. Maybe it is apart of me, especially since I always beg to go dancing in the rain. Maybe I knew all along the rain was the key to Wonderland.

Caterpillar would be glad to hear I've been forgetting my magical little pills, no safety is swirling through my veins. He always judged me for using them, though he insisted it was my choice. My choice that he disapproved of.

New Frabjous Face and other new friends are new to me, but they makes me feel alive again, like maybe Wonderland can be a happy place again, like maybe the Jabberwocky can learn its place once more.

Ring, ring, ring...

And as the night goes on, I turn away the phone and let it ring, for it doesn't own my heart anymore.

I do.

I hate to sleep.

The monsters and demons and sins and wraiths run rampant in my mind, and my control is lost. Control is key. Every impulse, every little tiny thought, leads me closer to madness. Slumber is madness creeping in upon me when I cannot steal myself from it.

Late to bed, and early to rise, leaves the insanity hidden until the day she dies.

The walking, the talking, the revealing of my truest thoughts occur when in slumber, and I hate it. That's why I don't sleep, that's why I'm last, always last, because I know that's when the crazy comes to play.

Lust, Gluttony, Vanity, Envy, Wrath, Greed, Sloth. All seven swirl in my veins, with a chesire smile concealing the truth of them. They swirl in all veins, they play their devil games in the night for everyone, but for me, its different. It always will be.

Seven little friends swimming in my head, begging me to become someone I am not. I'm not in love, but the *** is good. The mirror is a comrade in arms. The green of my eyes is for more than just genetics. The fat on my legs has a secret agenda. I feel the sickness of anger in my heart but it never shows. My selfish wiles are secret, but they are there, always screaming. And when boredom creeps, I let the angels weep.

I hate slumber, for all seven play their seductive little games inside the holes in my head, and I can never be free of it. I fear who I am when I sleep, for its not the face I know.

But with you, I slept.

That astounds me.

He says he's a **** up. That his heart is the one that sways, that he fears shattering my heart.

He doesn't know, he doesn't understand.

I'm  not trying to say he's perfect, but he does not realize how awful my attention is. The focus flips and twists and turns and he doesn't realize that on a dime I could change my mind. Then I'd be the ****-up.

Commitment is not my strong suit. He deserves so much better than me, but he doesn't know it yet. Not until I turn around and say I forgot and that nothing means a thing anymore. I want to be different, I do, but I don't know if I can. Because one week away from him and the thoughts are already rushing in.

I'm already trying to find something wrong, something to **** us.

**** Up. I want him to **** up so I can free myself. I am a **** up for refusing to stay with a man I love. **** up everything for selfish reasons, trying to find ways out just because I get distracted too easily.

I have never cheated, and I never will, but I will ruin something great for a maybe. **** maybes. **** the fact I cannot stay committed to one person. Maybe that's why I was so afraid he wasn't committed, because I'm not.

I want to be good to him. But I don't know if I can.

I'm the real **** up.

Every inch of me sore from your touch and every heavy breathe between kisses, its all yours.

But I don't know if you give me the same courtesy.

When your face is in my face, when your face is in my hands, every fear melts away and all I want is to forever find myself imprisoned in your embrace, the first time this wild girl has ever wanted and willed to be caged.

Don't waste your heart on a wild thing, didn't your mother ever tell you?

I always fear my wildness my wilderness will cause the rift between us. But maybe I have been led astray by my own mistrust in my commitment dances, to be unable to see you are willing to take what you want from me and not reciprocate the less desirable moves.

Trip three steps backward and realize I am not just some girl, I am the wild girl, with a large, creative heart, who will rip you to shreds as quickly as I will hold you to me. Realize I am not to be trifled with. Realize I am too independent to accept less than the best version of you.

So one question, my love, something you don't know my head calls you when I forget to take things slow, are we exclusive? am I yours and are you mine?

This question could ruin us or make me fall more in love with you. Only time will tell what you do with this wild girl, if you make her fall in love enough to stay, or if you send me away.

You may break my wings, but wings can be healed.

Us, on the other hand, may be another story.

What's funny is under all  my anger and independence and ultimatums, all I truly want is to simply be yours.

Let you be mine. I promise I will love you like no other, because there is no other. Isn't there beauty in that?

Just let me fall in love with you, and maybe, for once, we can be something magical.

I'm yours.

I'm a walking disaster; a ticking time bomb.

Yet they still want to be around me. Why?

Don't waste your heart on a wild thing.

I walk alone.

I should walk alone.

All I do is hurt and scream and cry and damage. No one should put themselves through such torture for love.

Love isn't worth this.

There's a million questions swirling in my head, screaming at me to do something, to be something, but I don't know what that is.

Miss Independent?

Somebody's somebody?

My heart is giving out. I don't know what to write anymore. So much screaming, so much pain, so much fear. I'm afraid of everyone and they should be afraid of me.

I'm suffocating in my own misery.

And I don't know how to stop it.

I don't know if I can.

Everything has to change, eventually. But I didn't expect to ever stand on the edge of the world with you of all people and have to realize things are changing far too rapidly for any of us to handle.

You're holding my hand, and making promises you probably can't keep. Its breaking my heart as you scream "Grace, you're the only one for me" when I know you've said it time and again before and they never were the one for you, were they?

Its ok, I thought your best friend was the one. That was until he wasn't. So maybe in this moment, you aren't lying, for this second, maybe I am your one. But who knows if that'll stay, if that will remain, for rarely anything remains the same.

Maybe I've made a mistake forging my heart in the shape of your name, and maybe one day it'll morph itself into another, but for now making memories with you is all the new I want.

And then there's you. We fight, we cry, we love. But I don't know if we're right anymore, and part of me can dream of a world without you. That kills me, because you were my everything. I spent every day with you and I hate myself for thinking of how it might be easier to be apart.

The hollow hallways of my heart once were filled with you, but now I don't know if you belong in every avenue anymore. Maybe your just a conditional love now, something that hurts even to admit. You were once a world I could orbit around, but now as my own planet I can see myself out of your solar system.

And finally, you. The one I cannot fathom losing.

I don't even want to talk about the thought of losing you.

God how I hate everything new.

My little blue dress hangs in my closet now, and my black ribbon is around my wrist and not my hair. I've cut my long blonde hair shorter, and my childhood fantasies are a mere haunting that reach to me at night, reminding me of who I am.

I once dreamt of you as a wonderland, a place of fear and magic and horror that I would suffer a thousand lives to feel a moment of.

Then I grew older, and recognized that this wasn't a wonderland; or perhaps, it was, but not quite the wonderland I was thinking of. This wonderland had a name, a name that came with frightening connotations.

Bipolar.

Those fantastical moments in which I was flying, in which nothing but the flowers could sing with me as I danced in a purple field of wonder. Where the bluebells kissed my hands and the crochet was with hedgehogs and the pond behind my house was much more than it seemed.

Bipolar.

Each corner I turned in which a shadow hid behind, shadows I could only see and that chased me through the darkness unto the stairs and into my bed, holding me tight and strangling me until I woke up and realized everything was ok.

Bipolar.

Each friend I made as a child at night that wasn't tangible, though we shook hands and danced and read books together as if we were real. As if anything was real.

Bipolar.

It was a game I was playing that I didn't know was hardwired into my brain, that this wasn't just Grace and her wonderland, it was something darker, deeper. But alas, that's how it is as you age, isn't it?


Wonderland gets darker with each visit, and with each day it grows closer to me. Its terrifying how it may begin to affect others, others i love, but there's not much I can do, is there?

My one wish is that there will not be another blonde little girl, with my green eyes and my blue dress, finding herself stumbling into a wonderland that she cannot handle.

If it means I can never have the one thing I want more than anything, then I am willing to sacrifice everything to protect that little girl.

I will never lead another little girl into wonderland.

Never.