One thing that I've learnt is that you should never look back. The past is dead and buried. You get nothing from living there. It's all about today... But I've been having these dreams. In them, nothing's real. Nothing's solid, everything's a fantasy. Fucked. An illusion. In these dreams I'm a life that's already gone by. Today means nothing. Today is just a ghost that's haunting me. I'm at the end of the world, on the edge of things, and I think about letting go. I think about falling.
I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beans glitter in the dark near the Tanhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.
Sally took to the interwebs like a fish to water. It was as if everything she did shot out a pulse of electricity. And from all the corners of the globe, people responded. In droves tingling for more. A rapt audience welcoming her with open arms, desperate to connect, hanging onto her every word. Suddenly the girl no one wanted became the belle of the ball. She could say anything, bare her soul. Her lone voice weaving into its own cyber subculture. She basked in sublime adoration, being numb to the world lost its appeal.
"These are the kind of girls who hang dream catchers above their beds, who eat pomegranates and read old history books for fun. These are the kind of girls who take pictures of their hands with disposable cameras and wallpaper their bathrooms with pretty roses. These girls sketch eyes and mouths and little drawings all over things, they look you right in the eye and almost through you when you speak to them. These girls camp out in their backyards for fun, they light candles everywhere and if you visit them at home they usually have all sorts of animals. Their wardrobes are filled with silk robes and bows and hats, they drink tall glasses of milk and snack on chocolate while they watch the sun rise. These are the kind of girls who ride bikes through the city to the cinema that plays old movies in the middle of the day. They watch “Breakfast At Tiffanys” or “Rosemarys Baby”. These are the kind of girls who are quiet in public. They were the kind of girls who put too many marshmallows in their hot choclate, and when the snow came down, lit the fire, and pretended to be in the North Pole. They would water color things they couldn’t see, and eat French Toast for lunch. These girls were the kind of girls who always believe in unicorns, they believed in the power of love and dreams. They were the kind of girls who gazed out of windows at bigger worlds, and rain made them think of faeries and tree houses. In the summer they read Jane Austen and listened to Fleetwood Mac while sipping hot tea. They told ghost stories under huge floral sheets, candles glowing below their faces. The spooky endings made them scream and laugh. They huddled together so they wouldn’t get too scared. These are the girls that didn’t need boys in their lives to achieve happiness."