“Have I gone mad?” – Alice
“I’m afraid so, but let me tell you something, the best people usually are.” – Cheshire Cat

It begins with a look or a small word and suddenly I’m at the beginning stages of being hooked. I want to learn more about this person’s world. I’m cautious and though I’m not yet creeping late nights, searching their Facebook timeline from when they opened their account until now, there’s still something there, something drawing me to find out more. I can’t get their smile/eyes/the sound of their laugh out of my head and it begins to haunt me slowly, the image or sound of it popping up when I least expect it.

Then they ask to see me again and I slip a little further toward the crazy line. They say all the right things and can’t take their eyes off of me the whole time we’re together. I try to hold down the hope bubbling up to my weak surface because it’s still too soon. This person could still change their mind and walk out the door with no obligation to ever see me again. So I hold back and smooth my hair as they talk and offer little in terms of my own personal information.

Then we decide to see each other again. I try not to act excited as the plans are made but I feel my heart start to beat a little faster. I recognize the signs of what is happening and I’m scared. “Isn’t this what life’s about,” I convince myself as I spend hours preparing for the moment I see their face again.

The night is filled with easy conversation and lust filled looks. Then it ends, as a night always does. I go home and anxiously wait up as I watch the moon slip from the sky, making way for the sun. I dread the daylight and what it means.

Then days pass by. And more days. And then a few more. Panic sets in when each time my screen lights up it’s not them. “What happened?” Reasons to justify their silence flow quickly and come far too easily. I let them come and fill me with expectations like an empty balloon because I’m desperately pushing the truth down to my inner core.

My hand hovers over their name multiple times as I consider reaching out to them. I try to come up with witty phrases or flimsy reasons for contacting them after so long. I stay up late at night with worn down nails trying to figure out what I should have done differently. Did I not laugh enough or did I laugh too much? Was I not physical enough or was I too physical? Did I not answer enough questions about myself or did I talk too much?

I begin to ask friends when my inner dialogue is getting me nowhere, they all assure me that the silence is his loss but I find no solace in that. I make the final turn into crazy town by asking my cat questions about my personality flaws. I finally become mayor when I contemplate giving up meeting anyone ever again so there will never be a next time like this. Falling down the rabbit hole of crazy never feels good and always ends with bruises.

Then there is air and light again as I realize the world isn’t ending. Weeks pass by and I slowly work their face out of my head. It’s then been months since I’d spent a less amount of time with them then I ever have total with my dentist and I finally feel like I’ve escaped crazy girl and made it back to normal. Then a message pops up. It’s them.

“Sup.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      I then decide it’s a good time to get fitted for a straight jacket.