Bay City: Where the Sidewalk Ends

Credit, picture above taken by Morei (Furry Rage)

Being back on Second Life for the last month, after years of being away from this game, it feels as if I never left this circus. People are more socially aware yes, but there are still a lot of old internet relics that are still here. Things were not as commercialized.

Registering a new account I immediately made sure to contact my one real friend from my Teen Second Life days. Honestly sometimes it feels like we get back to our same dynamic. All I feel is gratitude. Second Life gave me hope in a time that I was too scared to be myself in real life, and that there were people who didn’t judge me.

Finally having come to terms with being a furry, I’ve decided that I am a cosmic doe on this soul planet. In the mid 2000s, I was in many online circles who would have banned me if they found out I was a furry. This included an edgy Sonic the Hedgehog hacking forum which is in hindsight pretty funny. They would often complain about kids joining their forum or getting emails from angry parents. It’s a children’s game series… I really wonder why.

Anyway, I finally feel like I have accessed a crucial part of my inner self and I feel a lot of relief because of that.

With my old friend, we reminisced about old times while cruising around in a “Party Van”. From the van we blasted tunes from Initial D, and other meme songs from the age of ytmnd dot com. Eventually we decided to pay a visit to the fort she had back in the day.

Standing on the road right outside our previous hangout, the memories flooded back. Turns out that exact land space is a cat breeding game vendor. Kind of amusing in a personal way.

Walking farther down the road, she commented on how this place looks quite a bit better than most of the mainland areas. And how there are many dead end roads in this dumb game. We sat where the sidewalk ends.

Picture of Morei (Furry Rage) by Zephyr Mang

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

Shel Silverstein

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