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Iris
A rambling upon an idea of a girl named Iris that I had for a while. I planned to write a couple of short-novels about her. Pardon for the unfinished and un-worked-through feel of this.
But all I can see is this little pale girl, standing alone. It is strange. We are most lonely when surrounded by people while the moments of physical solitude stands for me as the moments of togetherness, then at least can I be with my memories in all my misery. Strange enough it feels deserved. Like it’s my fault that my crappy mind is out of function to focus on anything else than the one that is not here. I pity the girl in the mirror. She does not know what she’s missing. Pointless conversations with people miles away from you in their souls, the yearning for creeping down in your own little whole where no-one can reach you. Oh little girl, please tell me how you are. I want to know you, want to share your sorrow. So please, let us smile of our pathetic lives together, so that the bills from the shrinks wont get so big.
Written by Iris, some months after the one that is not here left, going into a period of depression.