Alice’s adventures in Wonderland began with one thing, it was the White Rabbit, a peculiar thing. But the rabbit alone was not peculiar, it was every being in Wonderland that was said to be mad. “We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad” (Caroll 76). Although Alice did not believe herself to be so, she thought it futile to argue with a cat.  

     Proceeding through her time in Wonderland, she was regarded by the beings of Wonderland as “their Alice,” and was said to have a destiny to go forth with – she was a savior in their eyes. It was through feelings of pity that she agreed to help the beings of Wonderland, and those feelings alone. What she had not taken into consideration, though, was that just as the beings of Wonderland, she would develop insanity, too.  

     They quite literally drove her mad. Everything about them was irrational, their thoughts, their actions, their being itself. After all, in this Wonderland even the animals and plants could talk. By the end of her adventure, her patience had run out. Her resentment grew and her anger rose, she then thought it best to simply dispose. 

 
     So, then she proceeded, and the beings were no longer. Wonderland was empty and there was no one left to wonder. Peculiarity and absurdity, irrationality and idiocy, they all were now absent in Wonderland. She alone was left mad in this land of dreams. 

     The truth of the matter, I will now share, as the anger inside me is starting to glare. This “Wonderland,” the people there, the chaos they brought was all in the air. Their thoughts, their actions, irrational, true. So then I decided to bid them adieu.  

     What compelled me? What did I do? I simply developed insanity, too.  

     The people were mad, the animals too, the plants, the bugs, the grass and the dew. They called me their own, “our Alice,” they said. They told me a destiny is what I had had.  

     Made to run, made to dream, made to see the things unseen. I fought for them as I felt bad, and then I wound up going mad.