The Hall of Indulgence
Every craving has a throne.
Some worship validation. Some worship pleasure. Some worship escape.
The Mad Hatter doesn’t drag you into Wonderland. He simply offers what you already struggle to refuse.
Dopamine dressed as freedom. Seduction dressed as love. Destruction dressed as celebration.
And somewhere between the fire and the fantasy, you either lose yourself… or finally see what’s been controlling you all along.
She thought the monster was the world.
Turns out, it was the version of her willing to abandon herself just to be chosen.
So Wonderland sent the rabbit.
Not to save her…
to guide her through every room she avoided.
The addiction to almost-love.
The performance.
The triangulation.
The fantasy.
The collapse.
And somewhere between the woman drowning and the woman watching…
she became the slayer.
Round and round it goes.
Fantasy dressed itself up as love and handed me cotton candy memories, late night softness, and a home that felt almost real.
But some people only know how to love inside illusion.
So the carousel kept spinning. Back to the circus. Back to the performance. Back to chasing a feeling that never actually arrived.
And when the music stopped, I woke up alone… realizing peace was never supposed to come from the ride.
