I do not own Gravity Falls.

Scabs.

Those are what covered the soles of her feet. She gained a bad habit of picking on them, no matter how disgusting the dried skin felt against her soft fingertips. The calluses were terrible, and they bled each time she peels them off, so she made a mental note of wearing socks the next time she puts on shoes. And she kept forgetting. Rather, a part of her may be too lazy to wash her socks.

Or perhaps, she was just too lazy to get up from her bed and take her eyes off her phone. If being too afraid to face the world is even considered being 'lazy' at all. Depression was out of the question; rather, she didn't even want to think about it. She's not sick… at least, that's what she believes.

And for the third time, she ignored the messages that popped on her screen. She did feel good talking to her friends – they're the only ones who make her feel loved these days besides church. Yet, jealousy and loneliness still crawls under her skin whenever she sees them being held like no other by their significant others. She desperately wanted to cry at the sight of them being able to leave the house and probably experience the smallest of adventures. Introverted and always homesick, she preferred to stay in the house. Heck, she could even survive in her room for months… but that won't help her mood. In fact, she had been doing nothing but lie on a mattress on the bedroom floor the past seven days. She needed to get out. She was desperate.

But she was also not feeling it.

Today would be different, she told herself. Staying inside the room and only getting out the house to visit her God in the nearby church wasn't healthy. She was happy and content, and she loved God more than anything but she knew she wasn't doing enough to be called 'alive' anymore. And so she does what she can do better than anyone.

She boots her computer and starts typing.

Maybe the only thing keeping her alive is the stories she makes or the love letters she writes. Unfortunately for her, they were no longer addressed to anyone, but how she wished she could send them all to someone. Then again, she considered herself to be obsessed with the past, but somehow, all she ever pray for these days is for her to get over it… she needed help.

The young girl keeps writing and writing and writing… and she keeps falling in love with fiction over and over and over again.

She wasn't unhappy… far from that. But she was being held back by an unknown emotion. So she keeps writing and writing and writing from the depths of her thoughts, from a colorful world she created, from the non-existence she fell in love with.

I may never be more than just a one-shot character in your multi-chapter.

The nightmares kept her awake at night.

Her obsession with the past and fiction merge into horrible dreams of the devil and monsters that chase her into a pool of nothingness. And she drowns. She was used to it by now – waking up in a terrible mood, yelling at the first thing she sees in the morning – if waking up at 1pm is even considered to be 'morning' - and getting pissed at the first person who talks to her. She didn't mean to get upset… her psyche was slowly killing her. She was kind-hearted and good-willed… until she starts thinking of every possible negative thing that could happen within the next three minutes.

Like that text message she just received from her training supervisor, asking if she could go to work today and help with the current project. She groans in response. The hot weather isn't helping her get out of bed. Soon enough, she throws the covers off – she never felt comfortable without covers – and ignores the throbbing pain in her muscles before she finally takes a cold shower to combat the heat.

She forces herself to go outside. The summer could use a little rain.

She blinks and it rains. Strange.

A smile appears on her face and disappears as fast as it came when she realized that she forgot to bring an umbrella and is too lazy to walk back the few meters she had walked from her house. Probably because she was already late despite the fact that it only takes her two minutes to pamper up her exhausted-looking face with face powder, cheek tint, and lipstick. Still looks exhausted. Not to mention, the rain would only melt it all on her face.

She stands there, pondering whether to use transportation or walk the kilometer to work. As she stares at the passing vehicles along the usually quiet street, she realizes something very wrong.

She looks up. Still raining. Why aren't the droplets hitting her?

The event was creepy, but she didn't let it bother her. Thinking it was God, she mouths a silent 'thank you' to the sky. And so she decided to do what she always does – she started walking to her destination. The rain would let up, anyway.

I may not mean much more than that to you, but you probably, most likely, indefinitely mean the world to me.

As usual, she fell asleep at around 3am, expecting a nightmare or a bizarre dream or pure nothingness.

But all she dreamed about was the ocean. Was she that desperate to explore the world outside that her mind forces her to dream about places she had never been to for so long? No complaints came out of her that day… it was a rare pleasant dream. Deciding to take a shower as an excuse to sing her heart out, she stepped in the small bathroom. It reeked of cigarettes. Her face instinctively scrunched up at the thought that her uncle might have snuck in cigarettes and smoked in secrecy despite the fact that smoking was banned inside the house. Splashing cold water on her face helped get rid of the pungent smell.

And then she goes over to her computer to keep writing. She can play video games later. For some reason, just one peaceful dream was enough for her to finally step out of the bedroom, even if it's just for today. Her mind wandered off as she let the words flow, reminding her of her favorite characters, which mostly consisted of villains or powerful beings of pure energy with no weaknesses.

The day passed by peacefully. She closed her eyes at 11pm, even though she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep for the next four hours.

Surprisingly, she did.

So wherever you are, whoever you're with, and whatever you're doing, I'll take you to places you've never been.

It only takes one brave decision to change your whole life.

Unfortunately for her, she was a coward. So just one brave decision per year is the best she could do. And maybe, just maybe, it happens today.

An airplane passed by, catching her attention. She always counted them to a hundred then she starts over from square one, but she had already reached a hundred last month and didn't feel like starting over right now. It would be nice to fly one day. Shaking her head to snap herself from distractions, she swallowed before meekly marching over to the crouched figure. It probably wasn't a good idea. She might get killed or yelled at or embarrassed.

Who was she kidding? Everything is no longer a good idea to her. That's why this one brave decision is enough for this year. She didn't want to make any more mistakes. She carefully placed her steps, the soles of her feet didn't hurt this time – she wore socks.

Before she could say something, the figure glanced up at her, making her flinch and her lips quiver. A toothy grin greeted her, making her panic on the inside. Maybe it really wasn't a good idea. As pathetic as she felt, she forced an awkward smile. Unable to form a proper sentence from her lack of face-to-face social interaction, she moved her open umbrella—she remembered to bring it this time - further from her body to shield the stranger from the rain.

"Oh, hi, kid! That's real kind of you!" With a snap of the stranger's fingers, the rain stopped. Her jaw dropped. "Name's Bill! Do you want to carry it, kid?"

She smiled as the soft kitten he just saved from the rushing car snuggled deeper into his arms.