I suppose I ought to be somebody. But then again, what if I don't? I still don't know why I'm here, or what I am, or what I'm supposed to do, you know. I'm only following the white fellow - yes, him;  hiding under the hedge over there, the one with the ridiculously large pocketwatch, you see. 

I'm called Alice. It isn't a plain name; Alice. My father used to call me by it, and he said it was rather lovely, and anything he says ought to be true, you know.
Completely insane, curious and dreadfully nosy. What a queer notion some folk have of me, wouldn't you think? Curious! Really, now, more than half of them haven't even tried standing on their noses - have they the nerve to call me nosy?

☯ misunderstood, underestimated and lost in some dream ☯

I've dreamt of a place once, you know. It was rather dark, and fairly deep, and reminded me oddly enough, of something frightening like, a rabbit hole.

♓ shattering in reality, yearning for an escape, and dreaming of adventure ♓

"the light died in the fire, in your eyes, in this room, when you fell. 
the ashes burned with the cinders, and the shadows all died, as you left. 
but me, my heart, my tears - they battled through blood and fire when you smiled. 
this will never be love."

"the little girl,
she could not sleep,
and many secrets did she keep,
then came the night when heads would
roll,
now she's fallen down,
the rabbit hole."

~Quoted by me~