The everlasting pain that comes from the T.A.R.D.I.S, is that of the sweetest kind. The burning that never stops in your heart, your soul forever bearing the mark of a madman with a blue machine, no, not a machine, a blue entity. You bare the mark with pride, holding your head up high knowing you were chosen. In all of space and time, every universe, every single world, it was you. That blue box that sounds like bravery, when the brakes are left on, is the T.A.R.D.I.S. It is a symbol of peace you bring to everything you do, but it also shows the evil that destroys the good, the will that destroys everything you worked for. You have this gift for a reason and plan on using it. It is just so hard to choose the path you want to take. The universe is cheering, hoping for the best but at the same time wishing to see you fail. Your head is still up high waiting to take this magnificent opportunity full on and to see what comes out of it. You are brave but scared, the T.A.R.D.I.S is something of legend to you now. It is a far away dream that you once had as a child, one that shook you from a deep sleep and sent you straight to the your window. Hoping and praying to witness something magical or marvelous.

“This is the distinct power of the T.A.R.D.I.S, but you know this, of course. You have felt the energy emitting from your very soul as it has taken off, the sensational excitement that rocked your bones inside the once frail cavity of your body, the sweet taste of heroism in its most pure form, haven’t you? The jolt when you finally land, practically crashing, in a completely new world and time, near whomever or whatever was calling for your help? ” Said the seemingly omniscient figure of your dreams.

With in an intense jolt awakening her body, Georgia sprung from her bed as quickly as a hare, running toward her window, whipping it open, hoping to find a very clever man, and an even more clever box. To her disappointment, all she found was a freshly lain snow flurrying into her window, laying itself gently on the pane. This was her reality, that of an austere nature, nothing too impressive to show for. Georgia has accepted the unsatisfying life of a girl on her own many years ago.

“Years, years and eons and millenniums it feels of the same dream and no box.” She often said to herself in her loneliest times. Though she was a mere twenty-two years old, her soul was much older than that. Georgia often felt as if she was reliving her life, that she had already been to a new place, seen the unseen sights, and kissed the strangers that often gave her this feeling of empowerment. Georgia has accepted this reality of indefinite solitude, but sometimes, more often than not, Georgia felt the yearning that her dreams revealed she loved so much. In her dreams she was never lonesome, never craving the attention of anyone willing to give her the time of day, never yearning. In her wildest fantasies Georgia is surrounded by light, and there is always one man lingering in the back of her mind, with two eyes, a button nose, lovely ginger hair, and the most clever mischievous grin she had ever imagined. This dream felt so real it must have been true, it just had to be.

Georgia made her way to her bed, to go back to her realm of wonder and excitement as long as she possibly could. When she woke the next morning in a hospital, bed she found herself hooked up to beeping machines and clear cords, with a very ginger haired man holding her hand praying quietly with his lips moving against the back of it. As she moved her hand the man lifted his head and they locked eyes. It was the man from her dreams, finally coming for her, or was it she that was coming back to him?