Thing is, I don't know.

I wonder- if nobody is listening to my voice, am I making any sound at all? I think by now, February, we’ve, as they say, ‘lost touch’. Not that we ever touched in the first place. In the end I’m still only ever looking where you’ve looked, I’m only ever walking where you’ve walked, I’m in your dark blue shadow and you never seem to turn around to find me there. I wonder sometimes whether you’ve exploded already, like a star, and what I’m seeing is you three million years into the past, and you’re not here any more. How can we be together here, now, when you are so far away? When you are so far ago? I’m shouting so loudly, but you never turn around to see me. Perhaps it is I who have already exploded. Either way, we are going to bring beautiful things into the universe. Everything's better under the stars, I suppose. If we get another life after we die, I'll meet you there, old sport... People move on quicker than I can comprehend. People forget you within days, they take new pictures to put on Facebook and they don't read your messages. They keep on moving forward and shove you to the side because you make more mistakes than you should. I kept peeling off layers of my personality, but I seemed to be going in circles. Every time I thought I’d worked out what I really enjoyed, I started to second-guess myself. Maybe I just didn’t enjoy anything any more. I'm sure you think I was complaining about nothing. You probably think I'm a whiny teenager. And yeah, it was all in my head, probably. That doesn't mean it wasn't real. I can take a little beating now and then. I’m a tough one. I’m a star. I’m steel-chested and diamond-eyed. Cyborgs live and then they break, but I’ll never break. Even when my bone dust drifts over the City walls, I’ll be living and I’ll be flying, and I will wave and laugh. I feel a bit like a BOT18 sometimes. Old and rusty, aching and sleepy. Wandering through the city, lost, circling, alone. No gears left in my heart, no code whirring in my brain. Just kinetic energy, being pushed gently onward by other forces—sound, light, dust waves, the quakes. I'm as lost as ever, friends. Can you tell? I'd like it if someone were to rescue me soon. Oh, I'd like that very much. We'd found him. We'd helped him. We'd rescued him-we hoped. When you’ve got a lot going on, you have to look at the bigger picture. Just take a step back and look at the big picture and think about what’s really important at this moment in time. I can’t look at the big picture. I don’t remember it happening. I don’t remember anything I’ve done, or why. Everything’s very confusing. I don't know, I just don't care, it'll all be all right in the end or something, like, so it's getting to the point where I just don't do any work if I don't have to, I only do the things I have to do, but I just don't care? I don't know, this doesn't make any sense... I couldn't believe how much I seriously loved Aled Last, even if it wasn't in the ideal way that would make it socially acceptable for us to live together until we die. It felt so real. It didn't feel like I was trying to be someone I'm not, like I was putting on an act. I cared about him. And he cared about me. That was all it was. I’d listen to him for hours. I just hope someone is listening to me.

My name is Victoria Spring. I think you should know that I make up a lot of stuff in my head and then get sad about it. I like to sleep and I like to blog. I am going to die someday. I actually think a lot of people are very beautiful, and maybe even more beautiful when they are not aware of it themselves. I always do this thing where I accidentally say self-deprecating stuff that makes other people feel really awkward, especially when it's true. Sometimes I wish I were a normal human being. But I can't. I'm not. No matter how hard I try. There’s a time and a place for being normal. For most people, normal is a default. But for some, like you and me, normal is something we have to bring out, like putting on a suit for a posh dinner. As far as I'm concerned, I came out of the womb spouting cynicism and wishing for rain. I don’t want people to be worried about me. There’s nothing to worry about. I don't want people to try and understand why I am the way I am, because I should be the first person to understand that. And I don't understand yet. I don't want people to interfere. I don't want people in my head, picking out this and that, permanently picking up the broken pieces of me. If that's what friends do, then I don't want any. Do you think that, if we were happy for our entire lives, we would die feeling like we'd missed out on something? You know, if you want to be happier, you have to try. You have to put in the effort. People say my problem is that I don’t try. I do try. I have tried. I have tried for sixteen years. The problem is that people don't act. The problem is that I don't act. I just sit here, doing nothing, assuming that someone else is going to make things better. I really don’t do anything unless I actually want to do it. And most of the time I don’t want to do anything at all. We're all waiting for something to change. Patience can kill you. Nothing's going to change until you decide you want it to change. We’re so used to disaster that we accept it. We think we deserve it. I begin to feel that everyone is sad. Everything is sad. All sad. Just because someone smiles doesn’t mean that they’re happy. We need to stop waiting for something to change and make it change ourselves. We need to have the courage to face our fears. Unfortunately, it'll never happen, because that's not how people are. Nothing will change. We will all die wishing we had done something differently. It's the inevitable result of reality, and I'm just here to tell it to you. Now you know. Goodbye.