“If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn’t. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn’t be. And what it wouldn’t be, it would.”
-Alice, Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll
I'm walking across a clear expanse of exotic wildflowers. The sky is a beautiful, bright blue, with other hues coloring it sporadically. A nice breeze is blowing in the air—not too brisk, but not too slow—and it brushes lightly against my blonde curls.
Gleefully, I clasp my hands together and collapse to the ground; the feeling of bliss and freedom overwhelm me. I have never felt to happy in my life, I think to myself. Truly, I haven't. I can't imagine why, given that I’m in such a wonderful place—
I snap out of my daydream and look around. Dull gray colors attack my eyes, and it takes me a few seconds to make everything out. The room I’m in is nothing like the beautiful expanse my mind had imagined; everything here was black and white or grey, or somewhere in-between. Plain, boring walls surround me, practically frowning in their own gloom. I see several grey desks that are scattered with dirt and grime and a look that signifies its age. To my disappointment, I realize that I’m sitting in one, too.
A heavyhearted ed sigh escapes my lips. I forgot I was in class.
“Alice?” a voice barks again, and I finally turn around. My tall, stern-looking teacher is giving me a deathly glare, as if I’m annoying him by just being in his presence. Not that the feeling isn’t pretty mutual (because it is.)
“What is it?” I ask, and I’m surprised by the tone of my own voice—it’s only irked, not the rabid irritation I actually feel for him ruining my daydream.
The teacher—Mr. Tanner, I remember now—gives me a look, but answers me. ”Were you listening to a word I was saying, Miss Carroll?”
"I was," I say, nonchalantly. "You were talking about pi or something related to pi.” My classmates chuckle behind me, but I ignore them. Unlike them, I was actually paying attention to the boring lecture. How it is that I can daydream and focus, I don’t know, other than the obvious fact that my classmates are a bunch of idiots.
"I suppose you know the answer to the question, then," Mr. Tanner continues. He sounds like he’s purposely trying to get under my skin. “So answer it.”
“Can you repeat it?” I almost snap. I know I’m not supposed to yell at teachers, but they always get under my nerves.
"The question I asked earlier," the teacher begins angrily, finally losing his cool, “was about the value of pi. Do you know what the value of pi is, Alice?”
”Fractionally, it’s expressed as twenty-two sevenths; decimally, it is approximately three point one four one five nine two.” My answer comes out fluidly and without hesitation.
Mr. Tanner actually looks shock, as if he didn't expect me to get the answer right, as do my classmates. After what must have been an embarrassing moment for him, I hear him mutter under his breath, ”Well, I guess you were listening.” Then he just nods and says, “Good job, Alice,” like it’s mandatory to thank a student for getting an answer right (I wouldn’t doubt that that’s the case.)
“Wow. Talk about a nerd.” I don’t even have to turn around to face the person talking, because I already know who it is: Queen Hart, the black-haired, green-eyed fourteen-year-old classmate of mine who was spawned right from the devil’s mouth. “It amazes me how you even manage to go to school everyday, Alice,” Queen sneers. “Considering how lame and antisocial you are, I thought you would have just dropped out.”
“That’s funny,” I say, not being able to ignore Queen, “because that actually sounds like you’re describing yourself. Except for the nerd part, of course—it’s a wonder you ever made it to high school,” I add, and get the pleasure of seeing Queen’s face turn as red as a beet.
Several students burst into laughter, but I just ignore them. All of my classmates are a bunch of idiotic jerks; I only said what I did to Queen to put her into place. It wasn’t for anyone else—it never is.
Mr. Tanner rubs his temples, as if our bickering was just annoying him. "Class, let's settle down," he insists, trying to get everyone to stop laughing. When no one responds, he snaps, “I’m going to send everyone to detention if you don’t settle down!”
It’s an exaggeration, of course, but everyone immediately stops laughing. Queen just looks sour, but Mr. Tanner ignores her. "Now, if there are no more interruptions,” he says, sounding pleased with himself, “I will go on with the lesson…"
His voice starts to tune out as my thoughts drift away again. I really wish I wasn't here right now, stuck in what is basically prison for minors. I can imagine anyplace on Earth I'd rather be than high school.
But I don’t hate school just because of the trivial work or excessive hours I spend in school—in fact, that’s not the main reason I loathe it so much. Homewotk isn’t that hard, and if that was all that bothered me, I could deal with it easily.
The problem with school, with life in general, is people. Never have I encountered such a horrible race in my entire life. People are rude, cynical, stupid, selfish, backstabbing, and judgmental. Most people would argue that this isn’t true, but they’re just liars.
I had to learn this the hard way in middle school, back when I thought everyone would be my friend. But after Queen humiliated me and declared that no one would ever, ever be my friend because they all hated me, the truth finally sank.
The realization made me think that it wouldn’t be possible to find solace in life. All of the agonizing time I spend with my own race is enough to drive me up a wall. Thankfully , though, I have my diary for solitude.
And no, it’s not one of those everyday diaries that someone buys at the store to pour out their selfish desires. It’s not one of those diaries that someone uses to talk behind someone’s back, to gloat, to complain about how the world doesn’t revolve around them, or whatever pathetic thing human beings spend their time doing.
My diary is enchanted.
I know what most people would think: An enchanted diary? Is this girl crazy? Well, I am probably crazy, but that’s besides the point—I’m not lying about the diary. It really is enchanted. I didn’t believe it at first, and for the longest time I thought I was dreaming. To be honest, there are still times when I’m just in utter disbelief.
But it’s the truth. My diary has an incredible magic: Any idea I write in it comes to life. Not in this world, but in another world. It comes to life in a place where nothing makes sense, and nonsense becomes the norm, and where everything but reality exists.
That realm is Wonderland, the name of my diary.
Getting the Wonderland isn’t as simple as it sounds. For one, it’s located in a portal, which happens to be my diary, which is absolutely off-limits to anyone but me. Secondly, someone has to believe in Wonderland. I know the last part sounds really cliche, but it’s true. I can’t believe how many narrow-minded and unimaginative people exist in this world. No one I know understands the suspension of belief. No one I know believes in the impossible, would be able to cross over to Wonderland.
Suddenly, I realize that my thoughts have carried me away again, and that class is just about to end. My multitasking brain managed to cover most of what Mr. Tanner was saying, so as soon as he lets everyone out of class, I mentally go over the work in my head. While others will be goofing off in study hall, I’ll be trying to do all the schoolwork that I can now, so that I can have the rest of the afternoon free. The thought of my diary makes me realize how much I miss it.
Eventually, I make my way to my locker and pull my precious journal out. Everyone is too busy being immersed in their own little worlds to pay me any attention—just as always, of course. But I’ve gotten used to it by now.
I close my locker shut and head out of school. Home is only a few blocks from the building, so I can walk there. As I’m traveling, I pull out my pen and begin writing down a new log:
School’s as boring as usual. The teacher’s asking superfluous questions again. Queen’s such a smart-mouth that it’s almost laughable. Well, probably not as laughable as my stupid classmates, but close enoguh.
I pause, biting on the end of the pencil as I think. Then I write some more:
You know how I would do things in Wonderland? I’d have it so that no one would be forced to go to school. It’s a decision anyone can make. We’re always learning something, unless you’re as dumb as Queen and somehow every piece of knowledge flies right pass your head.
Speaking of Queen, I’d get rid of people like her in my world. In fact, no one like her would never be allowed in Wonderland. If they even try to set foot on my land, I’ll have guards arrest them.
I’ve just finished writing down the last part when I reach my house. Once I’m inside, I run up to my bedroom, closing my door shut (it has a giant sign DO NOT DISTURB hanging on the knob.) My parents aren’t home yet, which isn’t a surprise; they’re probably too busy at work or whatever they’re doing to come home. And I’m glad they’re not here. I don’t need anymore people telling me what a failure of a human being I apparently am. (Then again, if I fail the awful human race, that should be a good thing…)
Tossing my homework aside, I reach for my diary again. Excitement bubbles up inside of me as I stare at my prized possession a moment before I shut my eyes close.
I try to concentrate. It’s not too hard for me to go to Wonderland—after all, I am the most eccentric person on the planet—but it’s a little more difficult on days whenever I’ve just returned from school. Weekends are better, because I don’t have school to drain and suck all of the creativity around me. M. So, I have to work harder to tell myself to believe.
I want to escape this world. Take me to a land far, far away take me to a land where I will fine insanity, madness, and bliss—
Suddenly, I find myself falling, further and further into a portal that has miraculously appeared out of nowhere. The world around me begins to evaporate; the walls in my room, the bed, the floor—everything changes. It keeps going on like this for a little while, until, finally, I land in another world.
It’s hard to describe Wonderland. Picture the stranger, most eccentric, outrageous place you’ve ever seen. Now combine that with your wildest dreams, your most ambitious imaginations, and you have Wonderland.
I take a moment to inhale the beautiful, fresh air, a grateful change to my lungs from the stuffy atmosphere I had to breathe in during school, and look around me. Relaxation flows throughout my entire body, and I smile. “Hello, Wonderland,” I say, feeling as if I’m greeting a friend. “What should I do today?”
As I make my way towards the world, excited to see my latest creations in, I can’t help but think about how happy I feel. This is my life; this is my world. Wonderland is where I live, where I relish. This is where I’ll always belong.