Once upon a very real time...there was a little girl...
Sick lullabies pull me farther down, down a Rabbit Hole. And it's dark and twisted up in here. Branches are bleeding sinews of dead trees, wanting sunlight. Crying out, out and up, but the entrance is so far gone. My heart pounds in my ears, and I can hear everything, and nothing.
It's all in my head. It's all in my head. Again, the shadows creep around me, closing in. The fear bubbles up out of the rotten ground. I'm so so cold and scared. Further I go, I want this to end. I'm falling over crumpled vines and rocks and broken glass. My seam is unraveling.
And I realize I am in my head. But all of this is real. Alice is not in Wonderland. She's a rag doll in her own mind. And all of this, this putrescence and pain is what it's really like when an anxiety attack happens.
Oh, let me go, turn me into a seashell or a sparrow, I wish this upon no one.
Finally, the fit delivers me back to sanity, the sereneness of reason. It's dim and still cold, but I hear rushing waves and smell the sea brine. If only, If only, I could find this place in the darkness......I feel so small and weak.
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