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When I go to sleep, dawn has usually just arrived, and when I get up, full and unremitting darkness is usually not far off. In this regard, as in almost all other regards, I does what I want. If I want a pretty pink dress one day and a dark gown the other, that's what I get. Another example: Let's say I want to look nice, for someone nice. When it comes to sex, first, no lights shall be on. I'm just really shy, despite what you'd imagine. Second, no underwear shall be slipped farther down than the ankles. I have a phobia that the house is going to catch fire, and I don't want to be naked. And finally, five is the absolute minimum number of times that the act of sexual congress, as I call it, shall take place in a day, with 0 being the all time  maximum. And this, at the age of nineteen, though it hardly seems possible.

Then again, what exactly about me is possible? I'm dirty. I'm happy about it, I'm a girl unlike the dirt under my nails, like someone who has dug a grave.

But right now, the only thing I'm digging is a dull ramune  out of the fridge in my dank little house in the suburbs, from Japan to America. I pops the marble, set it next to me, hop on Second Life and never touch it again. Then I'm taking a stroll around my virtual home, pointing out the more significant of my virtual belongings. There's a BDSM rack that's been untouched, A virtual cat . A virtual incense on the table. A faked clown painting originally done by rapist and serial killer John Wayne Gacy. Basically, it's all stuff you might expect from a girl like me.

Upstairs, behind a closed door called my brain, is thoughts of a crush, maybe a best friend? I often allow that he or she won't be coming online tonight. Maybe they've forgotten me. Maybe he or she doesn't understand that I miss him or her?

Tonight, I'm dressed in a gray sweater, blue traditional plaid pajama pants much too long, and a black choker with a ying-yang symbol carefully attached to it.  I move about with easy, spectral grace, fingers fluttering birdlike or so I like to think points to the keyboard where I control a cat in a pink maid outfit showing no one in particular a virtual aborstionists chair. It's where I had virtual sex with certain individuals that may or may not have resulted in my Brief but reoccuring depression for opening up too quickly even in a virtual world, I think about this and you can see further commentary formulating itself in my overactive brain. Wait for it. Wait for it. Here it comes. "Getting rid of creations is easier than they are made," I say, with my dry unfunny morbid sense of humor.

A click can be heard.

I'd assume it's just another ghost in my friend's list. We aren't friends. We don't talk anymore, but I check anyway.

It's no one I've been waiting for.

Despite that we never talk anymore, I still remember how we met.

It's an uncomfortable moment and goes unexplained everytime I think of someoe now. I live it out through a virtual cat a forever young Devon Rex named Lily White that goes as a 1000000L$ avatar all together, and sits in utter silence until my brain can stop traveling to 'other' places. I've had many over the internet relationships over the years with much craziness involved, none of it ending well for someone as sensitive as me. I am flypaper for damaged men and women specifying no one in particular.

Then it's time to step out, head on over to a virtual club or anything  for a little Lily-only fun Not like I really have much of an extroverted personality to go out and talk to anyone. We'll mute the club's music and put on our own in the background. We'll make words of our own. We will play rap music if we want to, although I really don't prefer it. And, of course, we will see if there's any trouble to be had. I'm chaos, I've always been chaos, my point on Earth is chaos, It gets me worked up. I'm the third act of every movie you've ever seen. I'm the part where it rains and the part where the person you don't want to die dies. I'm here just to **bleep** **bleep** up. Which means that even in a virtual world, parties  could be quite the debauch, full of terrible and wonderful things. One can only hope when it comes to a night with Lily White, Meylin.



Even when I was the young age of twelve, I was known as a button-pushing, willfully offensive nut-job maniac. , Self proclaimed god of **bleep** and years later even my friends called me the antichrist. I wear contact lenses, and it makes me seem deranged when I admit I really only want a reaction. I'm really an unintentional **bleep**.

Despite my wild appearances in Second Life,  in person no one can seem more courtly or mild than me. I take my seat softly. I rarely utter unnecessary obscenities and often affects an asian accent. I am fastidious about my appearance. I am constantly working on ways to better myself; right now, I'm on a mission to erase the word "like" as a habitual utterance from my vocabulary. And looking back on that earlier time in my life, I say that by and large it is no more. I'm really not so rowdy unless I'm horribly nervous.

Lily White With Virtual Cat Buzzy

To keep myself busy, I started painting, began animating for more television shows, and loosing myself in this virtual game. Starting a fashion blog even. fashion blog.

Currently, I also spend a good bit of time hanging out in this game, even going so far as to take up a virtual residence. Recently I've been feeling like I want someone who can understand me as few others can, another date if you will after almost two years now. I'm a low-talking mumbler looking for another low-talking mumbler, or at least someone who won't bother to raise their voice, someone who I can be thinking one day and think that we don't need words to communicate with each other. We could mumble like we're a mumbling chorus, and we could finish sentences with loving gestures. On a deeper level, someone who shares certain fascinations and predilections with myself. I am drawn to women or feminine men who are independant and creative, which is problematic because it's a struggle, a competition of careers. There's jealousy, but I'm absolutely not looking for someone who agrees with me about everything or someone who wants to please me by believing what I believe. But nobody can be perfect, not even me. I'm terrified of the dark but I can't sleep with any lights on, also I suck my thumb in tense situations.


I can't talk to people easily, I'm looking for one of the only people I can talk to. I can't explain it other than I don't ever have to say anything, but we can't really say it to anyone else, Which means whatever it means, as is so often the case with me, but you get the drift. And maybe I will have more to say about that later. But for now, I've got a warm cup of tea to knock back on the virtual world of Second Life. Tea is another new thing. The binge soda, coffee,and sneaking alcohol drinking days are over, mainly because it makes you poor and crazy, and I didn't want to end up poor and crazy, and there'll be no more American sodas, either, mainly because that's how I got a lot of bruises It makes me very rascally. And ornery.

It's late now, verging on the time where the party dies down, and if trouble is going to make an appearance, it better do so soon. On the promising side, the situation is getting wilder with the drunk women and men coming in and the horny casuals coming in for their late night pick ups, and women are involved. Meylin behind Lily White, who is well-known as a wallflower, floats around. , inviting myself to dance alone at virtual clubs and making moon eyes at strangers who I'll never get the guts to talk to.
Back to me, Meylin, the special girl who gets the pleasure of the rights to Lily White, is holding court and saying some very wise things that I always unintentionally rile up the world with, like, "I only have one problem with the internet; it's full of liars" and it's one of the reasons why I tend to stay clear of the nearby chats, even if the statement could be a follow-up to something I'd said earlier in the day. I drink warm tea after cold tea for hours, just watching a virtual cat dance around a chat room with terrible music I've already blocked out.
Soon it's time to go, rather I'm getting tired of this, uncomfortable, or maybe the party is dying done. And still nothing really chaotic has happened, no meat or anyone new. It's all kind of a letdown and a bummer. If the point of being Lily White is to **bleep** **bleep** up, then the night has been pointless. Or maybe not. Maybe there's a new point to being Lily White. And maybe it has yet to be discovered, by me or anyone else.

A few hours later of on and off Second Life, it's getting on toward dusk up in Meylin's bedroom inside the Gonkura house, where Meylin, having already presumably walked my rabbit, fed the cat, took a nap and is once again coming awake. The room is dark and it will stay that way. The temperature is a steady 65 degrees, as it always is. I rise now and brush my teeth (if you must know, I use Aquafresh) while sitting on the toilet and taking a leak (As a girl I'm so glad that a standard isn't standing and peeing). After everything I haven't done in the past day, you'd think my next move would be to take a shower, but no, that's not what I do. I haven't done that yet today, so if you're planning on going down on me, you might want to wait until later. Next, I pull on my clothes, usually band shirts anobody knows about, many of them taken from yesterday's pile. And finally, right before anything happens, I wash my face, and do my makeup routine.

Lily White's unsettling appearance in a beautiful scene

I make my way downstairs, where it's also dark, and always will be dark, the most common light being a few candles. That's just how my parent's do it. My real house is much different fom my obscene virtual home. There is no incense on the table but just candles and random clutter, the mass murderer's clown no longer leers from the wall, instead a crude painting of a cat hung on the wall. As someone who truly loves animals I really can't feel anything but depressed when I look at the kitten,  hanging from a tree like it will fall at any moment. I sit on a chair that's nasty in general, but it's comfortable, I reach for my laptop. I'm not much to look at. The way my nose slants unlike my flat facial structure of an asian, my large lips, the paper like color of my flesh, and the total absence of any sign of aging on my face, no wrinkles, no sags, no indication anywhere of all my hard living despite the heavy bags under my eyes.
Well, I think I'm still kind of a teenager. I mean, not only am I nineteen, I have a the sex drive of a fourteen year old who just discovered porn and masturbation all at once. 
Oldest Second Life Picture I have To date. Noodle.
I don't know why I'm like this but it probably has something to do with my childhood, growing up as Meylin Gonkura in Osaka, Japan where I rarely saw my mom and my father a man who tended to hover. It may have looked pretty normal but it was anything but. One experience in particular just about says it all, and while this is such a horrible thing to share, if you've been reading to this point you deserve it: At the age of thirtteen , I used to sneak down to the basement with my father's porn and hunch myself over a box of stuffed animals. I wasn't so much aroused as fascinated, even mesmerized, thus paving the way, after we moved to Colorado, USA , to go to a Second Life, take the name Lily White, and even help in a few animated television shows.
But if that's all in the past, my present seems like it's still in the process of arriving, which perhaps explains why the other night at even an online club, no **bleep** got all **bleep**ed up. Then again, once a vampire, always a vampire, and there are only so many ways for a girl like myself to evolve.
I like to consider myself a twelveth grader, the guys and gals with more experience than the ninth graders, the ones that everyone  wants to **bleep**. I mean, time and age are really irrelevant to me. Sometimes, I think I'm trapped in the age that I started this. I'm trapped at eighteen. Or fourteen, of course, depending on the company. All of which would help to explain so much, including my occasional urge to shoplift, my most recent haul being a few copic markers from the art store, which I'm now telling you guys about and I bet somewhere in Second Life there's a person who works there, so technically it's not shoplifting, and a pack of watermelon gum from a gas station, which I only ate a few pieces.
Lily White introducing a racoon toy to her virtual cat
I seem to be trying to get at something with these little revelations, and I don't stop. But I don't even know myself what I might be getting at.
I'm all forms of crazy, which I think is one of my most charming qualities. It's not diagnosable, because it involves co-morbidity, which is when you have multiple disorders, so they can't figure out what it is. I don't really like being intimate with people. I think I'm afraid to get close to people because I'm afraid they're gonna leave. I'm just really shy.. I also have a great fear of the ocean, maybe because I remember going to the beach as a child and I have fractured memories of just not enjoying it.
My mother's name is Sazuki and she's fiftyseven years old. As a kid, I was in the hospital a lot, I was anemic and had pneumonia about six times. I was told I suffered from strange allergies, to things like baby food and pork. I also had chapped lips all the time that nothing seemed to fix it, probably because I licked them all the time and picked at them. I didn't really mind them, but everyone hated the fact that I picked at them, and now I carry chapstick where ever I go.
My father was terrible. He was always angry, He lost his temprer very easily and even my little friends thought it was abuse. Now I don't much like to talk about it but the further down we go the worse the confessions get. Also, however, that in no way am I allergic to baby food and pork now, I just can't stand pork but I can eat it.  with the logical corollary being that whatever illnesses I had when I was little was probably caused by my father. What can I say? Mental illness runs in the family. Which, of course, is one way of explaining me, that I'm mentally ill, hence all my outlandish behavior. And it might be true. But it's also a very distressing way to look at it, not only because of the bleak future it predicts but also because, somehow, it's just plain wrong to think about myself that way, reducing myself to a set of co-morbid psychological disorders. And it's just as wrong for others to think it, as they seems to be doing. I like to think I'm unhinged, too glorious for anything else, too singular, too out there, too much still a bright, shining example of what it means to be individual. Which was something not very accepted in Japan. My home.
One can only imagine what my life with someone else again would be like. But, in the end, no matter what else I do, or where I go, or who I sees, or when I'm going to loose my virginity, or what I shoplift, or what the terrible advice is that I give to the cougar-bitten, one can only hope that together you, my dear reader and I might have fun doing it.

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