The monologue of the overly attached
Most times she says she's fine alone. She says that one night stands and flings are what she likes, that love is intimidating in many ways. This kind of attachment goes against the primal nature of the human species, anyway. For the existance of love, society should be blamed, not instrict. Thus, love is an unnecessary burden.
Most times, that's what she says. She's fine alone.
But on those lonely nights that come once in a while, when she can't find a lover, a friend or a stranger, she's thinks that maybe the truth is a little different. And that's when she drinks alone to forget the discovery of her introspection.
On those nights, she admits that she says she's fine alone, because she doesn't want to love somebody else. And she drinks. And drinks. And begs whoever is up there for a chance to rewrite the past.
And then she drinks even more to forget how pathetic she feels.
And the day after, she says to herself that she doesn't remember her discovery.
She almost believes it.
Almost.
So she tries to fly away from everything. To leave, to go beyond the vale. To start over for good. But she never really quite flies, because something - someone - is holding her back.
She tries to fly again anyway.
For her, almost flying is always better that almost loving someone else.
Julian -his memory, at least - would always be holding her back.