Postcard to Alice #72111-2

I am still here refusing to move. But like everything in my life I have to. My brown steel glasses is waiting to be taken to places, yet I am still here. Sitting.

Postcards to Alice #71411

However I try to fight this cold feeling of being alone, it keeps haunting me. I feel like I'm riding this huge carousel made out of white porcelain with prints of gold, pink and blue butterflies and flowers.

The mirrors are huge that when I stare at my reflection, I am but a small tennis ball. Up and down, the horse takes me. I try to hold on to the gold bar that holds the horse to the base of the carousel and the roof, it keeps taking me higher. I wanna let go but I just can't. I keep holding tight and mesmerized at the lights

The carousel, no matter how magnificent won't stop turning. It's porcelain walls is slowly cracking and crumbling.

I am here at this carousel. Alone.