So this is me.

I am young, I live in a far off land, I like to dream. I find it hard to fit in with the people around me. That hand, up there in the header? That's my hand. I'll probably change the photograph later, but I thought it was good enough for now. Better than blankness. If you look, you can see I'm wearing three bracelets - my mother's charm bracelet, my charm bracelet, and the heart-pendant bracelet my grandmother gave me when I turned 16. Its based off a Tiffanys design, but I don't mind. I like it the way it is. You'll also notice there is a feather next to my hand, but that doesn't have any particular relevance or meaning. It just blew into the photograph right before I took it. Maybe that in itself means something, but I don't know.

If I think about that sort of thing too much, I scare myself. I have an imagination, see. That's the way I talk about it in my head. 'Oh, Sarah Dee, she's rather odd, isn't she? She has an imagination, you understand. That, I understand, is the technical term.' If I think about that feather being put there for too long, I'll wonder why it was put there, and what the significance was, and whether it was put there by somebody I once knew. A ghost, perhaps. Or something. I don't think I'll think about that any more.

Instead, I like to think about girls in Victorian dresses, big sturdy boots, curls and ribbons, rockstars with whiskey in their glasses and glitter on their eyelashes, junky fairies living in the city, cupcakes, lounge singers, and rooms full of old, leather bound books. I think I'll stop this entry, before it turns into a song from The Sound of Music.