"It's just a phase my dear girl. You'll be rid of it soon, this I am sure of."
Do you know the problem of going to a private school where no instructors or tutors will believe anything you say. Possibly, and then again, possibly not. If you haven't, I'm happy to congratulate you. Your one of the lucky ones. If not, then grab a seat, a cup of boiling coffee, and let me explain my reasoning.
Growing up in the small country-side town, things will never take your side. Take my word for it. If your trying to relate to this, don't. It' really no use unless your mother has fallen down a hole and fought monsters, at a remarkably young age. If you can somehow relate, I will have to tell you that you indeed, may need to undergo therapy as well my dear friend. If you can't relate, I want ever bit of luck that has ever struck you you remarkable beast.
If your still listening, I would highly suggest that you buckle down and prepare yourself for one of the craziest rides you've probably endured. There will be, without any doubts, a couple bumps in the road.
"Dear child! You will need to get to lunch this very second!"
"I don't want to."
"And whatever is your reasoning?"
"The rabbit is still there."
My instructor raised her eyebrow in complete curiosity. Of course she couldn't see the rabbit. Apparently nobody could. She didn't ever listen. It's not my fault she's a stubborn mule.
She just rolled her eyes and grabbed my hand, gently tugging it towards to direction of the auditorium, where they served food. I grunted, trying to strangle free. Sure, her soft hands made her grip comfortable, but I still wanted free. I wasn't about to get a pocket watch shoved into my face again. Not on my own watch.
A couple of tutors walked by, and I tried to wiggle free even harder. I mouthed the words 'Help me out of this mess!'. They just smiled, and I gave a frightened glare. Did everyone think I was completely bonkers?!
_{-=+•+=-}_
I walked home that day. I wasn't about to walk with a bunch of children in which would bombard me with requests to have me take them to Wonderland. How they knew about Mother, Father, and my world, completely shocked me. None the less, I was still very impressed.
I opened the door to see my mother slicing tomatoes on a cutting board. I hung my bag on a small rack, and layer my head on the counter. She rubbed my face with her free hand, comforting me, but also mentioning that my face felt hot. I didn't feel sick, don't think I was running down with a fever. I looked at her and shrugged.
"I'm just tired. That's all."
She looked over to my father with a worried glance. He just smiled. She sighed, running her hand through my hair.
"Oh my child, whatever are we going to do with you."
Father looked over at mother.
"She'll be fine, you always were,
Alice."
YOU ARE READING
_{-=+•WøñdërŁãñdŚÿñdrømê•+=-}_
Adventure_{What is my imagination suffering with? Wonderland Syndrome is what mother has suggested}_ _{A few years have passed since the rabbit hole seemed open for use by mother. I wasn't born yet, obviously, but it felt like I had been there before. When...
