I once lived in a world where the sun would always shine. Empty people, infinity pools. Vacuous, celluloid, humanoid, robotic. Bodies, dripping in silver, cool to touch, a funny shade of tangerine blinding in the sun. Clocking up treadmill miles, smile, wave, skip a meal. Engineered to be beautiful. Daddy issues, credit cards. A screen in every room. What is a home with four storeys and three people? God, your parents were naive, to think we stayed quiet, when they went to sleep. We were a blur, we were a dream. Focus girl, who are you going to be? Seventeen, fake ID and isn't it funny how the police thought I looked twenty three. Speeding through suburbs in Range Rovers and Chevrolets. You'll hear us, before you see us. Highbrow, low self esteem. Houses sat on hills and they even owned the airspace. A man will pay a lot for a nice view, when his family is falling to pieces.
I once lived in a world by the ocean, where the water was always clearer than our intentions and the people had forgotten what it meant to be alive. Canapés and forced conversation, each day a blueprint of the next. A five year conveyor belt, moulded, bent, carbon copies. Spat out. Snap out of it. These hunger pangs won’t quit and I realised, I was starved of more than nutrients. Saturate. Satiate. I could never get my fill from cheap thrills and beige conversation. You do not have a life, you are life, eternal. Energy cannot be created or destroyed. Baby doll, destined to be more than a trophy wife. Think of all the worlds running parallel to this one. I could not stay. I'm sorry Mum, I ran away.
There is something overwhelming about being a person. Quietly terrified. Party girl, cool stare, scan the room. We play many parts. We are many people. Interwoven threads weaving in and out, back and forth, crisscross. Miniscule. Important. Speeding through cities, hurtling through space. Free trips around the sun and finally I find the world that is mine. Where the weather is drab but the people are brighter. Dressed in black, counteract the art bursting from our minds. You are here, you are real. Make something of yourself. Make your mother proud. Isn’t it funny? This thing called life. And isn’t it funny, how we run around, the same city each day and only collide on weekends. I wish we could collide more often. Don’t you think that could be fun?
I’ve seen you a couple times. In the rain, in the warmth of my living room, red light glow, friend of a friend. We talk about colours and I think you’re a million of them, blended together, falling apart, there is no absence of light here. There is no absence of anything. Yet, words spin around my mind, while you spin round the room. Shall we go for a cigarette? Come on, it’s getting warm in here. Asthmatic, nicotine addict. I won’t tell you, I’m trying to kick the habit. Take a drag because you let me, because it’s nice to share. Cold sweat, warm breath. Mouth curled, tongue wet. Can I touch your tongue with mine? We’re all a little twisted, tell me something you don’t like.
I could tell you about the worlds I've seen. I could tell you how we are all the same, atoms rearranged. Cells to an organism, these flight paths are veins, a giant brain. A consciousness. An immersion. Infinite experiences played out beside each other. A fractal. Another Earth, a clone of you, with brown hair or an affinity for bus rides, a different lover, perhaps it’s me, again and again, slightly different, no stone unturned, until someone, somewhere has seen it all. If I ask anything of you, it is to remember this. Board a plane if you're running on empty. If you're lost girl, stuck girl, dancing queen. You will find your world like I found mine. Everything you can imagine is real. I see you in the haze, through the smoke and the leather and I know it's true. A million worlds running parallel and I am here, I found you.
FEATURED IN COLLECTION OF DOCUMENTARIES ISSUE 3