There’s this itch that I need to scratch

I try my best to be a good Second Life citizen. I never cause drama, I keep my avatar script count low, and I have long since banished those God awful face lights from my personal use. But in the interest of social responsibility, it’s time for me to fess up about something…

…I have an incurable case of Traveller’s Itch.

There, I said it. What a relief.

I’m not exactly sure where I caught this terrible virus. I’ve been around SL for awhile and I’ve been to town and back a few times and who knows what kind of shady souls whose pixels I got myself caught up with. I’m a lady and I never kiss and tell. Back in those days, I was a young, adventurous and carefree avatar with no concern for consequences. I’m older now and I have seen the error of my ways.

Shameful as it is, I tried to keep my condition under wraps by ending my old blog, and isolating myself to my parcel on Piper Point. This worked for a while, but the itch is uncontrollable and tends to spread if you sit still for too long. You can scratch it but it only gets worse and the ointments only mask the symptoms. The only cure for Traveller’s Itch is to well, travel.

So for that, I must pack up my pixel bags and start exploring Second Life again. It’s a tough fate, being an eternal explorer, but I made my bed and now I must lay in it. Consider it my penance and contribution to our Second Life community, to show you cool and interesting places to explore. It is also my moral imperative to make sure you travel safely and get all the necessary vaccinations to prevent you from catching this highly contagious and extremely annoying condition.

As for me, I warn you, if we happen to cross paths in our travels, don’t get too close, and for God’s sake, DON’T KISS ME! There is one exception – if you are not afraid of living a SLife like mine, with constantly itchy pixel feet, endless travels, merciless searching and a feeling of eternal restlessness – then by all means, get a little closer! I could use the company.

The choice is yours, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Hitchhiking

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