She had gone through way too many online monikers for there to be any purpose now in disclosing her identity, or the myriad of identities she had gone through over the course of more than a decade. Eventually, finding fickle online peace (or so I hope — or so I pray), she had settled, or resettled, within the comfort of the name “streetlights”. I did not know her by this name - I knew her first under her real name and eventually by some of the pseudonyms she chose. Once the possibility of potential noise dies down I will perhaps have the liberty of further disclosure of both identity and content, not for the sake of encyclopedical completion but for whomsoever comes across these words to be able to remember her without the prerequisite of having met her.

A work in progress. So far, some (perhaps most) of the punctuation and linebreaks here are artifacts of my rather feeble attempt at better understanding the unstable medium (with all the ambiguity this term implies) where most of these words were written on. Cases where these additions have been performed liberally for the sake of readability are indicated as such. Comments in squared brackets mine. No particular chronological order.

“Don't you hear the screaming? The deafening screaming that men call silence?”

“Nembutal calls to me by name.”

“If a person has no memory of doing a thing, that person did not do that thing. Another person as a nonce in that same body, did it. Ergo, no conscious person none of the persons who walk around in their body has ever had a gr[…]ng mal seizure. When we are amnestic, we are other people.”

“I do not mind seizures so much, because the amnesia is a relief from memory.”

“You thought I was one of your hallucinations, I was too […]utiful an[d] we were too sim[ple?]”

“We were always too much the same, underneath the physical body [I AM NOT MYSELF]”

“God damn the constellations and the skin they sear in this world they show. God damn the Sun! GOD DAMN THE SUN! ALL THE KNIVES THAT SEEM TO LACERATE YOUR BRAIN - I'VE HAD MY SHARE, I'LL HELP YOU WITH THE PAIN!”

“Take me to the top and I'll never tell [you?] […]”

“Sing / For the love of the earth / with your dying breath / I want to be just like a melody”

“When I close my eyes I see words - I free the […] 'veritas'.”

“The streetlights shall bring me home. I want it to end at your hand”

“Synthetic serenity and I are friends”

“However pure, morning always […]”

“Last summer (The last summer I had) I was at a pretty girl's house and we made plans together to stay up for the sunrise over the borderline platter bag high punts of [redacted] better not naming where - well we made plans to stay up and see the sunrise over the platteneau-like high school - like architecture and it's been a long time since the light pollution was low enough to let us watch the sunrise. It's been a long time since anybody listened to me about pollution, a long time since I've wanted to say anything about pollution that video of my brother and I on on [sic] the [time?] at the old compound of a sea shack school gated community […] scenario yes a long ago but last summer the girl and I made plans to ignore the light pollution and see the run rise. By 23.00 my light had started to spasm; by midnight my head shook and then I shut my [eyes?] […] free the [light?] veritas.” [Nearly all punctuation added by me.]

“20/4/15 - Manic Obssession

The metal casts a bitter shadow on my day. I don't know whose mistake the truth & light. They say show you the way the […] I can't take the final plan I'm told will take my [eyes?] the purple[d?] all away. Whose plan is that for which all voices die? What can they never say?

[Punctuation essentially ceases around this point. All except two forward slashes and one period added by me.] I will not dare to fly so high, I will not dare to cling to lust, memories so frail & light I feel I'm going there / I mu[st] […] [yo]u're there / I do not care to try to die, I do not have the time to fuss, darknessess all touch on white [squared in the original], I feel I'm going there, I am not fit to live on high, I do not have the nerve to try, darknesses all touch on white and I feel I'm going there. Rarity in horror of the light, I'm wanted for a cause, harshness of the sharpened metal bite; children's eyes are shaped like saws, you're a precious little soldier of the [fight?] I memorise the doors and running through the cold streets taking flight, I realise [my?] flaws, [text is partially obscured at this point and becomes mostly unintelligible] I will not try to fail again, I will […] for failing friends, it is not […] I must not […] bends see it oddly [buck?] the […] angel cruelly comprehend, [I feel?] I […] I know what the lines […] [can?] not even fathom when […]”

[…]

“I might be meaningful someday.”