I have hardly been to the clubs now for forever, it feels. There's been no time. Between sleeping and sleeping, I've been shopping. But I've been buying close to nothing. Because I've been shopping for a new skin, and this skin, my skin, is so hard to find. I'm quite prepared to pay a lot for it, but I just can't find it. I've seen such skins in ads, but not for sale. Nowhere. As if they never were. I hate that.
I want black eyes. Really black, black eyes. Not sharp mascaras and distinct shadow. You get that in lots of skins. No, I want an utter all-embracing blackness, like an echo of oblivion mirrored in a moonless night. Two bloody big black holes for eyes, in short. And I can't find them. Which is so frustrating, because I've been to all shops. I've done the footwork. I've been good. And yet I have not been rewarded.
Mia once told me that humans don't change skin to change appearance. They can paint their own eyes, adding as much black they want. Well, that's another thing about humans that is hard to believe. If I chose to believe, and if I was a human, I'd paint my whole face black.
Oh, I want my skin! Give it to me!
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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
