Leaving Wonderland

Image credit: Alicja

Inspired both by Christina Henry’s incredible book “Alice” and my own nightmare account of living in Wonderland.

I’m out.

And I know I’m not dreaming. Dreams are what happen in the dark when you are sleeping; I’m not sleeping. And it’s light here so I’m not dreaming either. Which means only one thing… That I’m out.

Oh my God.

I look down at where I came from. I don’t remember how I got here. I spent so long pushing and pushing, trying locked doors, going from one dark corridor to another that I didn’t think that I would ever escape. But I did. I have.

Right before I gave up hope completely.

And now I’m here. Under a tree in a field where the sun is shining and birds aren’t afraid to fly. Crouched beside a rabbit hole that leads you straight to hell if you lose your balance and fall in there one day by mistake.

I’m not going back there. There’s no way. I’m out and I’m never going back. So I need to get out of here. Before they run out of cake and then notice I’m gone.

My feet are dirty and I don’t have any shoes. It’s fine — I don’t care. That’s the least of my worries. And anyway I’m in a field and the grass is soft and warm beneath me. It’s not going to hurt if I run. Not like before.

I don’t have any money either, which could be a problem. But at least I have clothes. They’ve seen better days, granted but they’ll do for now — until I get where I am going. Wherever that is. I have absolutely no idea at all where I am. I only know where I was. And where I am not anymore.

There’s a signpost up ahead. Thank God — I’ll make my way there. But before I go there’s something I need to do first. Before I do anything. It might take a while. I only have my hands.

It takes forever.

The sun is nearly setting and I’m pouring with sweat by the time that I finish. But it’s done. Now I can think about moving.

Because there is no rabbit hole. Not any more. I fixed it. It’s gone.

I used every branch, every leaf and every stone I could find and I stuffed them into its wide open mouth. Until it was choking and overflowing with soil and bits of twig.

Until I was absolutely certain that no one else could fall in and go through the horrors that lay in wait under that innocent, grassy looking surface.

And then I made my way over to the signpost. There are only two options. And only two roads.

One was the way that I had come from and pointed back to what used to be the rabbit hole. The arrow reading “Headfuckery 0.1 mile” — go straight to jail. Do not pass go or collect £200.

The second arrow pointed off into the distance and read simply:

The road to “Who Knows”, destination unknown.

I started to walk…

Tiara wearing, cat-loving secret snapchat queen. Mental health writer. Passionate about ending stigma on addiction / homelessness and all things mental health related.