Dear Diary,

It has been quite a while since I have written in your worn pages, full of silly girlhood wishes and daring adventures with my sister. But I have come to a point that I need your comfort, if only for a moment. This past night, I did something I will forever regret. Something that twisted the reality of my mind and set me on a course of destruction that I am determined to break.

My friends came over as they always do on Friday, only this time they brought along a substance that they called Acid. I had no idea what it was, but they were all gushing about it as if it was the Lord in a box. After some convincing from Stephanie, I gave in and tried it. Not long after taking the substance, the world around me changed. There was a talking rabbit, going on and on about being late. My curiosity led me to chase the fluffy fellow through the forest and I fell into a rabbit hole. From there my memory supplies fantastic images; my senses were aflame with new sights, scents, even tastes. This was a Wonderland that I had fallen into; with talking doors, cakes that make one grow, drinks to make one shrink, a bipolar queen, a completely insane hatter, cats without their heads screwed on, and a smoking caterpillar.

It all sounds so wonderful and brilliant, and it was… for a time. It turned terrifying when the Queen chased me. Wishing for my head on a silver platter for insulting her; something I’m not quite sure that I did but like I said, she was bipolar. The world was distorted, filling with water to drown away the fantasies and I was thrown back into the true reality. When I came out of the trip, it was already near dawn of the next day. A full twelve hours had passed. My friends were all still muttering gibberish, and John was drooling all over himself in a kind of dazed way. It was horrifying to think that I had looked in anyway like they did. Never again, Never EVER again will I take Acid.

The world I tumbled into may have been interesting but I had wished to be home the whole time and home is where I will stay. To not be in control of my body, to wake up dirty and bedraggled in the grove near my father’s estate, to require the comfort of my childhood diary; no, this not something I wish to repeat. Let them make utter fools of themselves. My fantasies will stay just as they are safely in my head where they are meant to stay. Thank you diary for taking one last secret to be locked away and never repeated. I will endeavor to forget this ever happened. Though, the dreamland, that Wonderland, is so fascinating. I think it would make a good child’s story, leaving out the drugs and the fact that I actually experienced it. If I did write such a story, it would be under a fake name. Maybe Lewis Carroll, combining the names of my great-grandparents. Yes, that sounds quite catchy.

Good night my trusty friend,



Prompt: Make a diary entry of a fairy tale character as if their adventures were drug induced.