I look down the rabbit hole and wonder if it’s anything like what Alice saw. To me, it just looks dark and empty. Like no one’s ever fallen down it. Probably because no one has and Alice is an unreliable narrator because she just fell asleep or something. Is that what my English teacher said, or did she say Lewis Carroll was on drugs and that’s why nothing made sense?
Anyways, back to my rabbit hole. How did I get here in the first place? Well, I was wandering around the hospital…no, that was last week. Was I at work? No, I must have been home because I can hear the oven beeping right now, but I can’t answer it because I’m looking at this damn rabbit hole. How did it get so big? Or did I get small? However the sizes got mixed up, I’m staring down into this rabbit hole, debating whether to jump or not. No, I’m debating whether it will kill me - that’s my real question. Because if it doesn’t kill me, what’s the real point to jumping? I always want to ask people who have survived suicide attempts “do you regret jumping” because I know it must hurt a lot then people feel bad for you and that just sounds like a load of crap, so I wonder if they regret not dying. Not picking a bigger building, or more drugs, or a better gun. Is this morbid? I’m usually morbid. For Halloween last year I dressed up as a scarecrow and would stand on the sidewalk, motionless, until little kids walked by, then I would scream and they would scream and cry. It was a lot of fun, last Halloween. This Halloween I didn’t do anything, just sat in my room and ate ice cream. Pumpkin. Not even the good kind.
I think I hear a person behind me, so I turn and look at this stranger - he's staring at me, which is probably justified because I'm staring into this rabbit hole (ha, I solved it. The rabbit hole grew because there’s no way two people were shrunk, the world just doesn’t work that way). He was looking at me like I was crazy (spoiler alert, I am crazy) so I said to him “if you want to jump, you’re gonna have to get in line.” Then he looked really scared and ran away. I don’t know if he went to get help or not. I’m good at making friends.
I guess I better hurry up and decide whether to jump or not, in case he comes back with the police. The police are always telling me not to jump into things: lakes, skate parks, lava lamps. I usually don’t listen to them. I close my eyes and hear the rabbit hole breathing. It’s not a calm breathing, but sort of hyperventilating. I sort of lean in to hear it better, and then I tip too far. Oops. My feet leave the ground and I tumble into the deep darkness of the peaceful rabbit hole.