dimly raze sometimes i think about the people i might have told about blather when it was new to me, the same way some other 'skites tried to convert their friends. i didn't do that until more than a decade after the fact. i wonder if anyone i went to high_school with would have liked it. if any of them would have written anything. if they'd still be_here_now, or if we'd just have a few more ghosts to call our own. i can't shake the feeling that anna would have appreciated it the most out of everyone i knew back then. but she ended up wounding me worse than any of the friends i made before i grew old enough to call myself a man. so maybe it's for the best that i never opened this door for her. i saw her in one of my dreams last night. that hasn't happened in a long time. i wandered through a building that was something like what would happen if a school and a hotel had a baby. i walked into a room that was a blathe she'd written. it was about going to the prom and having a terrible time. the room wasn't red. neither were her words. the whole thing was arranged more like a slick blog post, with a picture of her and some of her friends at the top. beneath that was the story she had to tell. dark grey text on a white background, with something blue in its belly. it was long. it was honest. it was good. in the dream, i really had told her about this place at some point. the blathe became a stage she was standing on. she said she didn't know if i wanted her around after what she'd done to me. i couldn't say one way or the other. we walked into a dimly lit dorm room. we didn't have much to talk about. that's pretty much the way it would play out if we sat down together in the waking world. she used to be one of my best friends. now she's a stranger. i've always wondered what would have happened if i'd kissed her the one time i thought she wanted me to. the part of my brain that's still sane knows no good could have come of it. 240105 what's it to you? who go blather from