I was on the site again, writing fanfictions for my loyal followers. I enjoyed writing stories about my favorite anime characters, and I loved reading the comments that my followers would leave. I only ever spoke to people who I wanted to become friends with; which was everyone. I wasn't a very big author, but I had a handful of loyal readers. FullMetal Alchemist was an older anime, so people didn't really want to read about such "old news". The only other shows that I truly enjoyed were horror series; but horror series were always clear-cut; any fanfiction you could write with those characters would have to be an affair between a ghost and a living human. It wasn't my style, personally. Angst always reminded me too much of the life I had to live. I wrote to escape that. I wrote to escape my life. 

I lived in a small town in Japan. It wasn't necessarily that small, since it was pretty close to Osaka, but there weren't a lot of people there that were my age that I spoke to, and there weren't a lot of people that shared my, umm...uality. I was a lesbian; I still am one, except I'm actually content with the idea now. When I lived near Osaka, in that small town, I wasn't. I hated it. I hated who I was, mostly because I was lonely because of it. I never saw myself even dating someone happily; I saw my options as either miserably dating a guy, having to get married, and having kids with a man I never even wanted to kiss, or being alone forever. It hurt.

I had always been a fan of anime. It was what made me question how straight I was in the first place. I always liked the boys with long hair. One day, it occured to me: Why do I only like anime characters with long hair? I asked my friend, Sana, and she joked around, asking if I was actually a lesbian. Sana was the only other person who wasn't straight that I knew of. I became close with her because I didn't mind her uality, and she was lonely. She didn't have any friends; a lot of girls were actually scared of her for no reason. But from that question she asked me onward, I realized that I wasn't as straight as I thought I was. I asked her about it a week later, and told me not to assume anything too quickly. She told me to do everything I could in order to stay straight. She said it was a scary and lonely world for people like her. Small towns weren't especially accepting, and this town was all we knew.

So, I did what I could. It obviously didn't work, as I confronted my friend about a week later, crying into her lap. I spent the night at her place, crying about how my love life was over, and how I'd be lonely forever. She comforted me all night. It made me feel even worse, seeing that she was used to it. She said it herself; she said she'd be alone forever or be with a man she didn't love. She said that there was hope for me; she said I was pretty and kind and smart. She said that if I travel to Tokyo, I'd have a chance at finding a girl. That bothered me; she didn't think she had anyone for her. I thought she was kinder and prettier than I, and more hard-working. She wasn't the most intelligent person, but she worked hard. She studied often, and I tutored her in our spare time. She was in the top fifty in our school, as was I. 

That's enough of an introduction. I liked being wordy in my writings sometimes, but as much fun as detailed descriptions of worlds unknown were to write, it didn't suit everyone's taste. I had dreams of writing a fantasy novel, maybe a fantasy novel series, but I wrote to appeal to people of my same age; people that watched anime, and maybe didn't have the time nor taste for a detailed description of the world surrounding the characters. It was a group of people who liked to imagine things for themselves, who liked to make things for themselves. Not to say that the fantasy-oriented people weren't creative, we would draw and design dragons, lycans, fairies, elves, hobgoblins, and all sorts of mythological creatures. Some were old greek characters re-imagined, others were new and inventive types. Some people expanded upon the idea of werewolves, and thought of having were-rats in cities. The idea of werewolves re-imagined as giant sewer rats is definitely a thought I never quite wanted to let go of. 

And there I go rambling again. This is the fate of a girl with too much imagination for her own good. 

I met Momo on a website. Not a dating website, though. I met her on the website where I wrote and posted my FullMetal Alchemist stories; usually starring the Seven Deadly Sins, and, of course, Winry making special appearances here and there. Obviously, I wrote FMA fanfictions, but she didn't seem to have much of an interest in the older stuff. However, when I was bored and lonely, and desperate for something cute to make me feel a little better, I stumbled upon her writing...I haven't regretted it since.

"You've gotta stop moping!" Sana scolded me over the phone.

"It's been a year! We've both been on dating websites, we've both dated people, and we've both flopped." I whined to my close friend. "There are no other lesbians or biuals, or anyone that is even remotely questioning their uality. We're alone, Sana! The only girls who are gay are in the States, Europe, and Australia." 

"Okay, that might not be true." 

"Of course it's true! The girls we met wanted a for their boyfriends!" 

"Okay, you're right." 

"Exactly! Ugh...I'm just gonna go on my fanfiction site." I groaned. 

"You reading some adult material on there?" She teased.

"Shut up. I would never do that with you anywhere remotely near my thoughts. I would dry up like a desert." 

"Rude. I'll leave you to your reading, though." 

"Love you too." I hung up. I logged in, and saw that she had made a blog update. My idolized author. She said she had broken up with her girlfriend. My heart ached for her, so I sent her a chat with shaking fingers. She wasn't online at the moment, but I figured that she'll see it when she wakes up or gets off work or whatever my star author did when she wasn't writing amazing stories for her loyal fans. I looked through her profile; a short angst one-shot sat there that was recently added. I never really liked angst...it reminded me that I'd either marry a boy I don't love or become a crazy cat lady. 

But I'm sure my favorite author made it slightly less soul-crushing. 

And I was wrong. Very wrong. I was crying as I finished the last sentence, grabbing a tissue. She was amazing. And she wasn't straight. She knew how to pull at my heartstrings. I looked at her activity, and she still wasn't on. I left a comment anyway, telling her how my soul was crushed by her talent in writing. 

A few days later, she became active again, with no news on her break up. It seemed that she was fine, or at least pretending to be fine. I was grateful that she began writing stories again. Her adorable stories made me feel comforted, warm, and fuzzy inside. It made me feel what I was yearning for - just for a moment or two. I began getting connected to her, reading her every message and blog when she posted, reading her every author's note, reading all her stories, including the angst. 

Then, she had to make a post about going to the gym. She just had to. I sent her a message saying that girls with abs were freakin' gorgeous. I liked my girls with a bit of muscle, and a solid 11-line ab line was the stuff of dreams. 

And there I was. Drooling over this girl I didn't know; this girl I barely even talked to. I barely messaged her, I was too nervous to send something to my favorite author, but when she would reply, my heart would flutter. I didn't even know what she looked like; all I knew was that she worked out, and probably had a little muscle on her. I didn't know her age, where she lived, or anything. I knew her writing, and I knew she had abs. My hormonal and lonely self was sold. Completely sold on this girl I had never met. I had convinced myself that she was the stuff of dreams when we had never even had a proper conversation over the internet, let alone a single word in person. 

I knew I'd keep an eye on her posts, and try to deduce where she lived, or any other useful information about this girl. I wanted to ask her, but I couldn't risk coming off as creepy... I could only wonder what she looked like, what she liked to eat, where she lived, what her hobbies were outside of the anime realm...

I saw a notification pop up. A comment was posted on one of my stories. A reader was telling me that they were enjoying the story, and were eager for the next update. I rolled my head, and stretched a little. I would be sitting down for at least an hour in writing mode. I'd have to dream about my internet crush at a later date. 

My internet crush.

This won't end well.

I'm crazy.