Alice In Wonderland

 

12/16/2009

“And now I have to stop. Because every time I remember this, I have to cry a little by myself. I don’t know why that made me so happy then feels so sad now. Maybe that is the way it is with the best memories.” 

I think it’s called psychosis.... I’m going insane. My legs are folded on a red velvet couch. My fingers trace over the veins in my arm, listening to words roll off her tongue. Focused, my eyes veer to the patterned rug that dissolves into delusion and chaos about the fringes. The red, yellow and blue blocks bending and twisting off their threaded stacks. The carpet is repugnant, distasteful and odious, between her storytelling and the carpet, provoked anger, my adrenaline pumping. She asked me a question, and she repeated the same question again. 

I responded, “I don’t bleed."

There’s no blood in my veins. 

"I don’t bleed, therefore I am not human.” 

She stares at me, baffled. 

I stare past her. “You’re not crazy”.

I stand to my feet mumbling, “I am just as crazy as they say I am not.” 

I scream at her again, “You’re not crazy”.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I turn my back to her.  Now, she is gone. Insects are bursting from every crevice on the floor, walls and the God awful rug.... everywhere. I am crying, screaming, trembling, I take off running. And then I fall through the ceiling and everything becomes nothing.