Now, this is the end of my memoir. I know I shall not receive any answers for my questions or relief for my pains. Therapy makes everyone believe that I’ve gotten better. Most people here I would like them to beg and cry to be my friends, to have my attention, I wish to haunt their minds.

I won’t.

I know I won’t. Slowly I’m locking myself in my room. Stopping social media. I’m isolating myself. I feel unbelievably lonely, only my parents and step parents to talk to without feeling uncomfortable or anxious.

I know there are many people out there that may feel like me. What I would like them to know is that they are not alone. I am not sure what the path is, that is something I cannot tell you at this time, I am trying to learn as I go along. This has been my first step, acceptance perhaps...awareness. Sometimes family just looks bluntly and wants me to react, snap out of it “get a life” though they have no idea what a conflicting message they bring with this. I cannot submerge them into my mind or feelings...they have no idea...perhaps now...they do.

I wish I could do so many things. Fulfill needs of people. Fill the hole that used to be my heart.

I can’t stop feeling numb, angry and sad.

I want to cut...just to feel. I won’t. They will discover me and lock me up in a clinic. Thus destroying my last communication to the outside world.

I still want to die. You have no idea how much I loved the feeling of choking and losing air, feeling I could touch death, go to wonderland.

I want to be loved, I want to not feel lonely and anxious at each turn. I want to be free. I do not want therapy or medicine. I do not want people claiming I look better if I don’t feel better.

I wish my depressive states didn’t come randomly. I wish it wasn’t just my parents and step parents hugging me. I wish it was my lover, who cares and adores me. Who murmurs sweet nothings and keeps me close, giving me the motivation I need and filling my heart. Adding that wish to do things just to see a pretty smile, wipe their tears when they are sad, tell them it will be ok.

But...my lover doesn’t exist. Only these blank pages. I’m not allowed to go to wonderland.

This is not a happy conclusion, I know. I warned you from the start it wouldn’t be. What could you expect of someone who feels dead inside? Has no motivation?

Who hates herself for falling and letting people take advantage?

I’m not the genius my mom wanted, I’m not the social girl my father craves. I’m not the happy go lucky girl my friends need and want. I wasn’t the lover anyone desired no matter my devotion to them.

I’m not what people want.

And all I ever wanted was someone there for me.

I guess that is why I love toys, why I love books and arts. Maybe that’s why I want to go through the door and find Wonderland.

There I will not be betrayed, I will be loved...I wouldn’t feel bad, or pain..,or anything.

I want someone here, who will never leave or betray me, Break me.

All I wanted was love.

I get it when it’s too late.

So if I go to wonderland...will they love me?

With love

Alice Jones