Closed doors

So I have been dealing with a sudden resurgence of old feelings. My final meetings with my old Keeper were not pleasant ones, and despite my wishes to part on good terms and my attempts to make it so, such a common-good parting did not transpire.

I still regret that fact deeply.

I still wish things had gone differently. I wish I hadn’t been lost in what was later revealed to be only half of who I am, rather than the whole picture, as I had perceived it at the time.

Too much Alice, not enough Ellis.

But now I miss little Alice.

I miss Wonderland. I miss The Queen and her wild moods and behaviors, the equal parts fear and adoration that came with being her subject. I miss living there.

But I had to grow up. I had to move on. We all do.

I don’t fit through that door anymore.

There is no potion labeled “Drink Me” that can carry me through the door into Wonderland again. And even if it did, it wouldn’t be the same.

I miss you, Alice. I miss you, Queen.

They were fun times like none other.

But all things change, and the door to Wonderland won’t ever open as cleanly again.

Assuming it even opens at all.

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