Nov. 18, 2003 @ 8:39 a.m.

The bottomless pit once filled with falling books is now a five foot deep, empty well that I stand in, observing the changes and absence of floating reading material. The Mad hatter had to rebuild his head adornment, only the lack of red fabric forced him to turn to blue. Following the White Rabbit will no longer find you at your destination, due to his now dateless routine that he tends to with a broken wristwatch via your clumsiness. Drinking either bottle that sits on the checkerboard clothed table in the center of that small room does nothing for your physical being anymore. The small door that resides to the far end of the room is too small to pass through and the large door to the far side is too large and heavy to open by myself. The ever pointless meetings of water soaked animals have no mention of any words other than hellos and good-byes, forcing them to stand around like lost children until the time feels right enough to walk away. But worst of all, when I run into the Cheshire cat, it reminds me of your tyranny in this wonderful wonderland, the cat’s now hollow grin, missing all of it’s teeth because you thought she had too perfect a smile. This candy land, spoiled, rotting and shattered with shards of sticky sugar laced coatings has been slammed into to a sad evolution, eliminating all of the previous existence. I hate you for changing my wonderland. I demand, I want, for you to come back and clean it up.