It's fake right?

Sure, that's what they all say, that's what everyone says.

But I don't believe that.

I know it's real.

Why? Simple. I had been there before.

And no, I did not get there by a closet.

I was just running in the woods, my feet bare, feeling the earth beneath me, and there. All of a sudden, B A M! There it was.

Okay I'm exaggerating. A lot.

But . . . I can't really explain it.

Let me take you there.

I was running. Running from them. They wanted to hurt me. They say they were helping me, like super heroes helping people. But super heroes aren't evil. They don't shock me. But those mean people do. They say they're trying to cure me from my "mental illness"

They use a lot of big words.

I don't like big words.

Mommy and daddy visit me.

Mommy always cries, and daddy just stares at me.

His stares aren't friendly. They pierce through me, all the way to my soul. And when mommy cries, it breaks my heart in two.

Though my heart doesn't actually break.

That would be bad.

It hurts me when mommy cries.

But lately, she doesn't visit anymore. Neither does daddy.

I don't mind though.

It hurts less.

It doesn't remind me "what's wrong with me"

Nothing is wrong with me though.

I am normal.

But they don't believe me, they just shake their heads.

So I ran from that prison.

They call it an asylum.

I don't know what that means.

But I do know one thing about an asylum.

It hurts.

So I ran.

I ran from all the ugly people who hurt me.

But there was one who wasn't ugly.


She was kind and generous. She took me on long walks and read me stories.

That's how I found out about Narnia.

I always told Anne, when we went on our walks, "Let's go to Narnia!"

She just laughed.

Therefore, I did too.

I don't think she was laughing at me.

I hope she wasn't.

"Let's go to Narnia."

I was serious.

I wanted to go.

Therefore, I did.

I was running to Narnia.

It was dark, cold and bitter air hit my face.


Stupid girl I should have known.

My feet started to hurt and it felt like I ran forever.

But I didn't mind. The moist, squishy earth felt good beneath my toes.

Moreover, I was sure it was impossible to run forever.

My gown started to swish beneath my legs; the wind blew in my face and raked through my hair.

And then I saw it.

It was Narnia.

It was everything I dreamed of.

Sunshine, flowers, green grass.

And nothing white.

White reminded me of that prison.

Just when I started to marvel it, truly grasp what was in front of me, it was all snatched away from me.

Just like that.

It was gone.

I was taken away from my paradise.


I kept wondering.



Why me?

I was back in this drab overly white place.

It's June.

And whenever I see the sun, silent tears escape me.

Only reminding me of my misery huh sun?

God has a screwed up sense of humor at times.

Whenever I look out the window I see all the things I wish I had.

The sun, the meadows, the fresh air.

The freedom.

But it's everything I can't have.

Like I said.

Screwed Up Sense Of Humor.

I see Narnia.

It haunts my dreams and I.

Mocking me.

Taunting me.

Whispering to me.

Leave. Go. Come To me.

It's alive.

Narnia's spirit's alive.

If I could go there one more time and take it all in, I would die happy.

What I would do.

Just to see all once more.

Just once.

What I wish I could do . . .

I'd go back to December all the time.

If only.

Everyone says Narnia's not real

I don't believe.

That's True.