"dear diary,
things are getting rough. no, it's not about my serval incarnation. she goes dancing in her clubs, probably causing little offence. no, it's about the band. one of the guys came up with a new idea, so they all ended up arguing about it. not that they didn't like the idea. they loved it. but they argued about how to.
this guy (sheared sheep) suggested that we should get ourselves uniforms. for looking the same on stage. (they are all a bit nerdy to me, so i'm not quite sure i want to look the same.) then they discussed this for two hours, instead of rehearsing. should they be golden? black and white? all black? i think the only style not suggested was pink.
come on. we haven't got our two first songs right yet. we are not going to perform. at least not very soon. and we'd look awfully stupid in uniforms. at least i would.
but i didn't open my mouth, because they might have taken me showing any interest whatsoever as an approval of the idea.
mia"
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There was no end to it. They kept trying to save me. They told me there is a First Life, and that there are humans, who decide everything that happens in and to the world.
What can we avatars do? Walk, fly, talk, and take on and off clothes. That's about it. If there were humans, and if the best thing a million of them could think of doing was watching us, how could you ever consider them superior? I didn't think they can do a thing. I didn't think they can see us. Or even exist.
So I had to pretend there was a human controlling me, too. Mia. Until I found out that she was me. Instead I met an angel. Who brings me to life.
Snapshotting
