Author: Atlantis High Official

We have something special, have grown up in mutual adoration. He might deny that love is what he feels for me, but Antony could never say that he doesn’t feel something, something profound. This is playground love at its finest.

It’s like the myth of Hedwig; we belong together, we were once one and the same, until some ancient god split us apart. And all we need is to be together, and we’re whole again. You understand this right? You complete me!

Whatever.

For those of you out there who might be looking for a happiness and love as fine as mine, here’s what you need to know.

1st: Get a mirror.
It is important that this mirror be intact, as searching for your other half in shattered glass can be a harrowing experience indeed. Which of those beautiful faces peering back from the shards do you pick? How do you know he’s right for you, and you for him? It’s like visiting the dog pound. You want to bring them all home, but you can’t…..so you walk away empty-handed. I always wanted a dog.

2nd: Look past your reflection.
While it may be tempting to date yourself, this is a really bad idea. All of your good traits are magnified, and all of your faults are squared. I’ve always been too chicken to make any moves, and have never been the one to ask someone out, or break up with anyone.

One time, when Antony and I were on the outs, I developed a bit of a crush on myself. The problem was, neither me nor I had the nerve to ask myself out. Finally, Jet did it for us. But…..after a while, I got sick of me, but neither me nor I was going to be the one to break my heart. So we drifted apart, and I guess I’m not dating me anymore, but technically, we never managed to break up. You see how messy this gets?

…..Somewhere, behind that glass, you will find your other half. This may take work. You may be forced to wait a long time, sitting, without food, or drink, or sleep, until they finally appear. Think of it as a sitting sojourn, a bedroom vision quest. I should warn you not to be looking for Antony. Your other half will look different from mine; unfortunately then, you will miss out on the devastating good looks I have been blessed to possess.

3rd: Do not touch the glass.
You will not manage in this fashion to hold the hand of your one true love. You will only smear the glass between you, making it more difficult to see your love.

Likewise, do not break the glass. While it may be tempting to punch through the barrier between you, you will only end up hurting your love, accidentally slamming your fist through the core of them, tearing a hole through their body with surprising strength. This is very difficult to repair, and may scar you both for life.

4th: Absolutely no sharing!
I made the mistake of inviting Antony through the looking glass, and he’s so excited to explore this new world, that he is quite aloof to me. He has known me his whole life, and is more keen to see new things, meet new people.

It’s quite distressing. I thought that when he came through he’d stay by my side, but of course I was being silly, and confusing this with that time when I dated myself. He’s independent, aloof. So much so that we’re never seen together. And that hurts.

It really hurts.

Still, I know that deep down, he really loves me, and he will come back to me. How can he not?
Love is staying patient while you wait alone by the mirror.

Well, gotta split! Seeya!

“Hello, my name is Antonia, and I am addicted to my opposite.

When I was a girl, I, like many small children with nothing better to do, was addicted to “Alice and Wonderland.”

I found myself in many a timeout after innocently enacting my favourite moments, for example giving my pet rabbit an old stopwatch, which was apparently a family heirloom, whatever that means.

Then there was the time when I stole my mothers red nail-polish and painted our neighbors’ rose-bush. I think my parents were less upset about what the neighbors might come to think than they were about the sinister looking handprints I left on our walls and carpet when I came inside.

I think my father was ready to draw the line after I brought a herd of baby ducks into the living room and ran around trying to honk them like horns—but my mother intervened. She told my father that the disarray in our household would not be settled by sending his 6-year-old to Scandinavian military school, but that the problem was with the cartoons I was watching.

I just did not have a realistic understanding of the world because, in the cartoons I loved so deeply, anything was possible.

But I strongly refused to give up my Alice. After all, she was the love of my young life.

My mother tried to solve the problem by buying “Alice,” a Czech live-action version of ‘Alice and Wonderland.’ However, after an embarrassing incident involving a taxidermist, a chainsaw, and three armed policemen, my mother pushed that tape down the in-sink garbage disposal.

It seemed that we had reached an empass, until a new movie came out, one that was live action, but didn’t involve freaky puppetry and excessive use of sawdust. This was “Alice through the Looking Glass.” And it was marvelous.

After that, my parents found me much easier to handle, as I would sit for hours staring into the mirror. They could use the mirror as a babysitter, in the same way that many parents could use the TV, and they were able to leave me alone with my mirror for days, nearly a week at a time, at which point someone would have to tear me away to feed me and bathe me.

Inside that gorgeous piece of glass, I found my other half.

Look, I don’t know what she’s talking about. I certainly never lived in no mirror. And those hand-prints she’s talking about? They ain’t nail-polish. They’re stains from when I got in a fist-fight with Antonia’s dog. I don’t have a dog, Antony. Whatever. Look, the point is, all of this other half, destiny stuff, it ain’t true. You’re cute, babe. We’ve had some good times, that’s all. The thing about Antony is that he has a hard time expressing his feelings. He needs to be macho, needs to feel tough, doesn’t like to say he’s in love, but he is.

We’ve watched each other from the day we first laid eyes on each other. It’s a quiet sort of love, nearly unspoken; we’ve never even touched each other, not so much as a brush as we moved past each other. But there’s a special sort of push-pull between us, a certain balance of dark and light, menace and affection, male and female, yin and yang.

It hurts sometimes to hear him say he doesn’t love me, but I have to support his choice; if he acted just like me all the time, I might as well fall in love with myself, right?

Still, I can feel it. We were made to be together. I like the way she does her hair.