April 26, 2010
By Anonymous

Once upon a time, there was a girl. She was a pretty and bright, full of compassion and curiousity. She had only one request: to be loved, by the people she loved. She wanted to be a diva, a princess, a star. In her mind, she already was one. She was like Alice In Wonderland, stuck in a fantasy land where anything is possible. She wanted to marry a handsome man and have a big house and have dresses, miles long. She wanted to toss cash out the window into the hands of an unsuspecting homeless person. She wanted to be happy.
When she was little, her mother would pick her up and sing, blocking out the neighborhood, making her voice seem like the only person that was speaking, "You Are My Sunshine." The girl would watch her mother smiling, twirling her around, and she would fill with love.
When a cousin the girl came up to her, asked her to do something, and began pulling down his pants, she refused, and ran away to tell her aunt and mom. Her mother went into a rage, and the girl watched as her mom yelled at the man, saying words that sounded so harsh and mean. She realized her mom was being protective, and it was a good feeling. "Wow, Mommy loves me," she thought. "And I love her."
Then, one day, the worst thing ever happened. This happy little girl, so full of character and clothed in innocence, was clinging to her mom, begging her not to go. "Please don`t leave," She cried, the tears rolling down her cheeks glistening like diamonds against her skin. She had had a dream like this once before; her pretty mother had rode away in a carriage, leaving her with her brother and dad. She had been comforted by her mother when she cried, telling her about it. "I won`t leave." She promised.
But, like a lot of important promises, it was broken. As she hugged her brother, sobbing, her world came crashing down. The world of love, creativity, security, with powdered sugar, sparkly clothing, shoes like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, the future she had once seen so clearly, shattered into a million pieces. Her Wonderland was gone. Reality had taken its place.
The girl went on through elementary school, then middle school. When she was in fifth grade, the love for her mother, combined with the desperate eagerness to be accepted, caused her to tell a lie, a lie that changed her life. She got to move in with her mother, not thinking about how her father or her stepmother would be, or their family, just wanting for her mother to love her. During those three years she stayed with her mother, She had been depressed, had thought thoughts you should never think, and turned angry. When she moved from her mother`s, who was pretty, but turned out to be just as some people said she was, selfish and unwilling to love her, she went back to her father`s house. Her father and stepmother are wonderful. They love and care. The girl is being mended. Her scars are fading. Her Wonderland is back, barely but growing.
The other day, someone had said, "Love is too much, and not enough." And the girl thought, in a way, that`s not true. It can be true. Before she believed there was a God, she would have agreed. Some people don`t know how to love the way you should. But some people, some people know how to love just right. And that, my friends, is true. Because from what I know, God, my father, my stepmother, my aunt, my sisters and brothers, my cousins, my family, with the exception of a few, know how to love. They are where my love, compassion, and creativity always came from. They are my Wonderland.

The author's comments:
I`ve been through a lot in my life, and I just recently moved back from my mother`s house to my father`s house. My mother is an alcoholic and left two pairs of kids. I know a lot of people go through things like this and I want them to get something out of this.

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