The rabbit hole is always there to stumble upon. I am trying like hell to stear clear of it. It is disguised, covered over by leaves or between the roots of something else. The rabbit hole is the place I fall into when overwhelmed with the things with his children that simlpy, on no level, make no sense to me at all. The things that send me into the rabbit hole are so foreign to me that there is no way I can make sense of them.
He is gone from me then, and me from him.
We were not founded upon apartness.
Wonderland is not a nice place.