The beautiful boy sets his sights across the ocean. He knows his love is waiting. He knows she is impatient. He takes time anyway. No one can fool him. He has all the answers in a small backpack. His father was Michael Jackson. His mother was Kathy Acker. He had but one brother, Fyodor Dostoyevsky. He’s been alone all of his life. He doesn’t intend on running away. The beautiful boy is going home. He’s sitting on the floor crying in the palms of his hands. He’s the happiest he’s ever been. He’s been sitting of some floor somewhere for the last four years. He’s not lazy. He works through the night, most of the day too. He refuses to participate in society. It has only ever made him sick. The beautiful boy loves to be healthy. He does not want to harm anything. Above all else is his love. From this place it flows, pours out of his skin, drowning everything that dares stand before him. He knows its time to stand up. He knows its time to embrace the unknown again. He knows the control is in another’s hands. He is obedient. He is submissive. He has surrendered completely to the feisty girl living inside of him. He knows that she is the reason his heart beats. She speaks through him when he quiets his mind. She moves him when he gives himself willingly. She punishes him when he is stubborn. He rarely disobeys. But he is brat. He wants everything! Nothing satisfies. His curiosity has no end. He is quickly annoyed with most man made things. He climbs trees. He reads books. He doesn’t speak until she writes the words. “Tell me boy! What have you to say?” He looks at her suspiciously. “Who’s to say speaking is necessary! Your words confuse. Riddles that don’t get solved and lies that get stuck between your teeth; why must they all say what they don’t mean! I want the truth! Aren’t they lonely without it? How can they move through each day so decidedly? As if they know what awaits them. As if they have control. Does this desire to order every second in their day not disrupt their natural tendencies? Have they no intuition? Where is the spirit hiding? Has she abandoned them completely in their total disregard for love? What is affection in this state of existence? Where could your love possibly be coming from if not from yourself? Isn’t that screen stealing something important? Do you feel lonely without it? Aren’t you even the slightest bit worried, that loneliness and agony go hand in hand? You are never alone! You’re a dead child walking around in a fully-grown human form, covered in shame! That is your love that you are with! Are you not ashamed of refusing to acknowledge her presence in your life! I don’t want to speak! I only want to hold you.” She begins to explain. “A long time ago there was a boy just like you. I was given to his body too. He played along with this sickness that you speak of. He was performing. Only he’d forgotten it was all make believe. He thought, if only he could find a girl to love, it would be okay. He could forget he’d forgotten in the first place. Well, I was furious, as you would imagine; what with being beside him and all. He withheld my voice! My existence was unbearable for us both. He didn’t remember me. He thought he was alone. He almost died a thousand times. I wanted to let him! But I couldn’t. I knew his destiny. And I knew I was love to him. So I waited. I gave my energy to work that I didn’t believe in. I let him ingest flesh. Murderous tendencies soaked his blood and enveloped me. I watched him torture his body. I watched his scream in agony. Loneliness, he called it. As we sat on the floor together, screaming out for his love: me. I lost my temper and snapped. I rewrote the story. I had to save him! I brought him a mirror. Her name was P. He thought this reflection was outside of him at first. As I danced in her body before him to remind him of my presence, he could only weep. The love he’d been searching for finally came. But the body couldn’t stay. P said that she had to go. P said that she couldn’t keep him. P tried to keep him anyway. But P couldn’t keep up. He was already beginning to wake up when she was falling into the dream again. One day he awoke and saw me. He couldn’t stand the sight at first. I didn’t look like P. I was a beautiful boy. I looked just like you, standing before a piece of glass. He broke it! He destroyed everything in defiance. He ran back for P so many times he’d lost track of time completely. But she would sleep indefinitely! The body couldn’t be woken. She was tired. All her energy had been stolen. As this boy began to regain his sense of self, we grew to know each other. Four years on the floor alone with him was all it took. He found me staring one day, he put his hands to his heart. He cried like a baby. He couldn’t speak. He had found his love. He found me. I know you’re angry. I know the pain that you carry in witnessing is more than you feel you can bear. But you are not alone. I am carrying it with you. Record what see! Create they key to vision within. Show them my love! Give them your own! Hold nothing back. Don’t be afraid. Know that my love will never leave you. Build our home. It will not build itself. Show them how you came into being. They want to do the same.” The beautiful boy decided he could fly. The girl sat beside him. “I’m not afraid. You gave me my love and that was always enough. Hold on! I don’t have any plans, but I think this part is going to be fast! I think this is where it all begins.”