I am the white rabbit

I didn’t come here to play it safe.

 

I’ve tasted the proverbial pomegranate seeds. The forbidden fruit’s in my blood, it keeps me coming back. I want to see. I have to know.

Curiosity kills cats, but I was born to discover. I am the white rabbit. I let myself be led, where others fear to tread. If there’s a dark hole, I want in.

Who will be my guide? Who will sweep me, not off my feet, but fling me into the tide? Take me where I want to go?

In a room full of men, I’ll sniff out the one who’s recently been arrested or convicted for human trafficking or locked up in a mental institution. I can tell how bad his childhood was by the way he moves. Sick sense. The unhealthy, unhappy and inappropriate. These boys churn my stomach sick and sore, but I’m always left wanting more.

So once again, I hop, and I dive into the murky waters of the underworld. Stay safe on the shore as I go down once more.

Here it swirls, and history repeats itself. The characters, interchangeable. The result? The same.

The currency of the underworld is pain. You’ll trade with it to enter. But that pain point is my sweet spot of actualisation. I’ve burnt myself to ashes to test my rise.

 

Are you truly a creator until you’ve shaped your own resurrection?

 

I’m not some victim in a oh-how-he-hurt-me tale. The why-does-it-keep-happening-to-me bemoaning princess trapped in her castle of man-hate. I liked to play that game. I knew all the rules. The worse he is, the better I am. His badness served to illuminate my shining goodness. He’d contour me by adding shade.

The truth is, I little-red-rode myself right into the bed of the wolf. “My, what big teeth you have! Don’t worry, my frail, sick, weak Granny, I’ve come to take care of you! I’ve got a basket full of kisses and so many tasty treats… but your eyes, Granny, they’re very big… ahhhooo! The big bad wolf got me again!”

I see the trickster in the drifters — I identify. I also like to pretend. I know I shape shift. Out of darkness, into light. And back again.

i-am-the-white-rabbit-lauren-wallett-rebella

 

And I get exactly what I want: that moment of shock, the reeling in pain. So comfortable in flames, I take comfort in the burn.

I get so bored with all sunshine and roses. Take me to the underworld. I want to see the underbelly.  Lets talk about unspeakable things. Watching through the window, a voyeur in the front row. Let’s visit places from your past so dark that you’ve spent your life trying to destroy yourself to distract from them. Will you hurt me like you hurt you? How will I stand it this time?

I have a penchant for the dark. My days are breezy bright. My dreams are tossing, turning nightmares.

I like to dip my toes in the wild tide, take a walk on the dark side.

 

I bunny-burrow myself deep down with them, curiouser and curiouser, becoming queen of the underworld. Building resilience against the current.

I visit to see without my eyes. To sharpen my intuition. Heighten my senses. In this sea of chaotic confusion, in the depths of darkness, I develop my insight. Through years of dedicated practice, my inner light illuminates my pathway.

I see consumption over connection. It’s not about beauty, intelligence and, emotional capacity, or any of your self-inflicted judgments of what’s important. The rules you’ve been taught don’t apply. Anyone will do. So you learn: it’s not about you. It really genuinely isn’t. What is attachment to the detached — those floating in the void? They’ll bump and grind into anything in their path. You can’t fill a porous well. You have to be mended to contain.

Through wisdom comes power. We are the apprentices to our future selves. I am the bunny to my witch.

Adding fuel to my internal fire, as I brew life’s elixir — one that is delicious in its totality. I’m next-leveling myself. Moving from transference to transcendence.

My ego, burnt. My heart, bruised. But I’m learning here. Pain is to be born again. I am becoming no body. I am not who I think I am. Stripping myself to essential essence. Iridescent ashes, reflected under stars. And I will phoenix-rise, and rise and rise. Perpetual transformation: dissolving and reforming