Voice of My was my friend.

 

She loved Russian literature, particularly Dostoevsky, all of whose

works she'd read and re-read. She was endlessly amused by the absurdity

of Dadaism. She wanted to be an artist, but never felt that she had the

talent, so she settled for being a writer.

 

She started writing Daria fan fiction as an exercise to improve her

writing skills and started classes at her local college in the summer

of 2003, studying writing and literature. She was enjoying it

immensely, getting, and deserving, excellent grades. She sent me some

of her homework to critique. Some of her poetry and her

stream-of-consciousness prose was hauntingly beautiful; much of it was

insightful and wise.

 

About a month ago she suddenly complained of what sounded like a very

bad virus. When she started coughing blood, she was taken to hospital

and put into a ward for serious problems. It took them a week or so to

diagnose multi-drug resistant tuberculosis. They gave her a 20% chance

of beating it.

 

Last Monday it beat her.

 

Her father had just bought her a laptop computer which was her pride

and joy. It let us keep in touch up until a few days before her death.

 

She would have been 16 on September 11.

 

Deref

August 23, 2003


* * *

Epilogue

It's been nearly two years since Voice of My died. Those of us who were
privileged to know her mourn her as deeply now as we did then. Her star
blazed brightly and, like a bright star, she was consumed.

Today I received this from someone who was touched by her words. What
better tribute could a Daria fan give to one of their own?

Deref
 7/13/2005

* * *

Jane and Daria stood by a tombstone in a graveyard, kneeling down Daria
read the name and date for Jane softly before looking down at the
ground.  “Jane, she was one of the good ones.  She’ll be sorely
missed.”  As Daria read the tombstone again Jane knelt next to Daria
and put an arm around her shoulder gently.  Daria then turned into her
friend and let her tears fall onto the red jacket Jane wore.

Jane looked at the tombstone for a moment longer before sighing and
nodding.  “You were one of the great ones; I think you could have been
our third Amiga.”  Jane then turned and hugged Daria joining her soft
tears in the journey to the ground.

--In memory of: Voice of My, from a fan who found out too late.