so if i'm gone, i might be back. and if i'm not, then find me in the rain.
I've thought about this alot. Everything like a puzzle, sharp like edges but fitting in, loose, tight. This is not the end, it is merely the beginning.
The internet is an electronic base for psychotic and for pure spirits. I've had my share of both. But this isn't running away from a problem, its really running away from myself. Control is the problem. The mind, is the problem. Those of you who wish to contact me, you know my address. If you don't, then ask me for it, the email will still be checked for the next week or so. Constant letters will be streaming to , poisonedbelle, suicidelingerie, funeralfires, lolitamilk, blixt & enfold(if you wish). {Sammi if you want to write, tell me, love}. Because I have known you for long enough to realise that you are part of the magic rushing beneath my skin. Anyway. I will be sorting out my junk here and putting up the last scribble over the next few days. Sarah, I adore you, always.
I will be lying horribly if I said I wouldn't miss this. Crossroads through the white fires, it's time to push on. Hopefully I will be in London+Wales in about 6 months [max] (have decided to defer a year of uni even if I get into the course I want, maybe London will burn down if I don't get there soon). I'll be okay.
There is nothing too much more to say... everyone who has been here has made the world spectacular.
I hope you will remember that.
_______________________________________________________________
Valentine...
This will be the last email I shall be writing. The internet has been a real knocker, but it's time to go. It's strange to think of how many screwed up relationships and heartaches it has taken to get me to realise this. Books are better, boredom at least can only affect me, and no one else. I hope you write(letters) to me because I think if I lose contact with you it might be the end of the world. Type them if you do not wish to write. The world awaits, minus the electrical flashes of this static screen, slowly, it's there,
waiting.
Sometimes I think this is really doomed. A really sort of typical, predictable, sifting doom that is so obvious you would think it would be perfectly easy to avoid it. But then there’s nowhere to swerve.
Well. I slammed my fingers in the pantry door today and burst out in tears. Epiphanies fall down like humidity caresses the rain.
Please keep in touch?
I adore you.
Yours always,
Lilly.