S. Dolly became one of the pseudonyms I started using a while back, when I started referencing twins or a duality in some of the personal things I have written. S. Dolly-obviously being a tie in with Salvador Dali- is a surreal and, of course, metaphorical person. S. Dolly is my stream of consciousness, but is also somewhat of an enigma, in the way I've presented her in the following story, which will probably be forever changing. My current life being so negatively filled in the present, mostly because of money, and partially because of people, S. Dolly is the name given to whatever makes me dream. I've cried so much spontaneously over the past days because of things I'm going through in my personal life, and my opinions growing so intense within my own body. I've come to realize many things, and I truly feel like my rationality is deteriorating. And it is not that I'm saying this to show off. To sound cool. Or whatever. But I honestly feel that maybe any concept of normality is being scraped away inside my own head. And I truly feel as though I will be successful as a result of this, and I sincerely love that. I think I'm continuously developing in my thinking, but my perception of reality is being shot down, and somehow I can't find failure in this. I feel as though I can call this S. Dolly. Here is the first draft of the possibly neverending drafts of a story on S. Dolly. It was written months ago, as you can still find a portion of it posted in this diary some posts back. (I hope I haven't already posted this story and forgotten) OMNIPRESENT A little girl, with innocent eyes like that of a solid porcelin doll, unfolds a piece of candy enveloped within a square piece of foil. She holds it up to the small lamp next to her in her freezing cold room, and decides that it is not the flavor she so desires. She tosses it and finds comfort in unraveling another piece. But she is always disappointed to find every single piece is the same flavor. She finds a new box, with plenty of new metal-encased candy. She takes a piece and puts it in a candy dispenser. She pulls the head of the dispenser back, and squeezes the toy, to make the candy pop out. It does, and she feels its sweet flavor tunnel through her head, and she dies. Shattered porcelin is everywhere. WITNESS TO THE BEFORE I had this friend several years ago, who was so sweet and innocent, but something had been bothering her, I noticed. The last time I saw her was after school that same day. She was leaving the schoolyard, eyeing the ground a head of her harshly with those cold blue eyes everyone was in love with. I remember seeing her curl of fiery red hair dangle with every heavy step she took. I remember it all so perfectly, because she stopped for one moment, and turned, almost in slow motion, and stared right at me for what felt like minutes, but after a few seconds she mouthed "Don't. Chan-ge. The. Path." She turned and stomped away. Then I got into my mom's car, and I rode away. The next day, on the school's intercom, the principle announced discreetly, being that it was elementary school, that she had died. I knew exactly what he was saying, and I began crying, because I remembered the previous day as a recording. Somehow I felt her death was because of me, even though I never spoke to her that often. My teacher escorted me to a lounge area of the office, and gave me a piece of candy that was wrapped in foil, to help calm me down. It wasn't what I wanted, so I spat it out and continued to cry, until finally I was a little more stable. I started to doze off in the cushioned chair I was sitting in. And I dreamed the most logical thing I've seen since. WITNESS TO THE AFTER So you want to know what I saw? Oh Lord help me, it was so long ago, but the portrait I stepped into when I saw her little body lying there that day is as vivid as I'm seeing you right now. Her room was almost like an icebox. I don't know why it was so cold, because the rest of the house was rather warm. When I found her body she was wearing this navy blue raincoat she had worn to school that day, because she felt it was going to be rainy, even though the weatherman didn't call for rain, and it was during the coldest days of winter. Her body was almost blue, curled up slightly, like even after death she was freezing cold. She had shot herself in the head with a gun I'd never held or seen. Her father died many years ago, you see, and always having a fear of guns, I despised the things. And I despise them even more now, because of what it did to my little baby's head. Fragments of flesh were everywhere, and blots of a distinct red were spread all over, in contrast to the darkness of the room. I cried so hard, but at the same time I couldn't bear to look at her for long. I thought about taking the gun and shooting myself, but I couldn't. And I'm telling you this now, with chills going up my back, but you see, I try to block it out. I don't like thinking about it, because it hurt so much at the time, and also because thinking back on it now, I almost liked the feeling I had looking at her body, because I know it's a feeling I'll never experience again. SERENE DOLLY I was disappointed at the world, because none of it is pure. It's all coincidental. And it should be left in the hands of the beholder, but the beholder takes everything for granted. I was but a little creature, and the universe is large. Therefore, are we all not little creatures? Even I could see everything with a heightened sense. I wanted all of them that day to see me angry, because I wanted them to feel. And whoever felt whatever I was going to do would be affected by this the most. And my purity will haunt them. It'll be a plague, but it'll be the best thing that ever happened to them. That afternoon, I clogged all outer existence from my room. I placed a towel under the door, and I placed one over the vents in my room so no heat could get in. I wanted to feel the calm of being the only one in the world. I was holding candy up to a light, looking at it. And I kept deciding it wasn't what I wanted. Everything, I began to realize, made me sick of pleasurable things. It was almost pathetic, because I was but a little girl with porcelin skin and mysterious blue eyes. But I was so much more, because I acknowledged being the little lonesome creature in the vast universe. There was a gun that had belonged to my father. It was one thing I managed to sneak without my mother noticing, because she had a fear of guns. It's funny how the things you fear end up destroying you in some type of way. In her case, it destroyed her sanity, seeing me dead like that. Today when the people in the home she lives in try to get her to eat, she always talks to them like they're interviewing her about my death. So I took this gun, deciding this was how I was going to convey my message. It's funny though, I didn't commit suicide, and I knew I wasn't. I was reproducing. I knew ever since the day my eyes shone that I was a superhuman. I remember my skin shattering into pieces. THE DREAM "Do you believe in dreams?" she said to him, and he looked at her scared, because she had just died the day before. "I believe in alternate universes, but not that you see them in dreams," he answered nervously. "Both are very real. The alternate universe, it's how you change the future, from what you think it will be. When you think of failure, and you succeed, you've made an alternate universe. And dreams, they inspire you, you know that?" As the little doll of a girl said this, she stepped into him, and they merged into one. The entire dream melted away at this point, and he woke up. She had created a child that would change the world. ---------------------------------- I know how choppy everything is in the entry. Including the story. The story was only meant to entertain a little, but it is meant to be a puzzle, or indication, at least. I reference a lot of things that'll only be understood by me, unless I explain them. For example. The things said in the dream, regarding alternate universes. Someone said this to me in a dream once. It was either a co-worker or just a character to the dream. And I responded how the boy in the story responds. -SERENE DOLLY