These people don’t know me.
None of you know me.
None of you know the truth about what really happened to me.
And yet you all think you have the right to post an opinion or call me names.
I’ve only ever been completely honest on this blog. That was the whole point of it—so that I had somewhere I could totally be myself.
Everything I’ve ever written here has been the truth.
Or the truth as I’ve been led to see it.
I didn’t know Brooklyn Boy’s true identity. I knew he was called Noah and I knew he liked music, but I didn’t know that he had a record deal and I definitely didn’t know he was in a relationship with someone else.
If I’d known that I never would have gotten involved with him.
I was lied to.
I’ve had my heart broken.
And, on top of all that, someone found out about this blog and leaked my identity.
When it all happened, it felt as if my world had ended.
For so long this blog has been my safe place—the one place I felt I could talk about my innermost feelings and not be judged.
But in the past couple of days I’ve seen how shallow the online world can be.
It’s a world where people think it’s OK to hide behind their screens and their usernames and say poisonous things about a person they don’t even know.
And even websites like Celeb Watch think it’s OK to print a story without checking the facts first.
Today, Celeb Watch contacted me for the first time since running their story on me.
They asked me if I’d like to do an exclusive interview with them about my “relationship with Noah Flynn.”
They told me they’d pay me $20,000 for it.
They also said that it would be great for raising the profile of this blog.
Like I want my profile raised by a bunch of liars.
The fact is I would never sell a story on anyone, let alone someone I love.
Even if they really hurt me.
So, to finish my last blog post on this site, I’ve got just one more thing to say.
Every time you post something online you have a choice.
You can either make it something that adds to the happiness levels in the world—or you can make it something that takes away.
I tried to add something by starting Girl Online.
And for a while it really seemed to be working.
So, next time you go to post a comment or an update or share a link, ask yourself: is this going to add to the happiness in the world?
And if the answer’s no, then please delete.
There’s enough sadness in the world already. You don’t need to add to it.
I won’t be posting on here anymore.
But to everyone who added to my happiness while I did, thank you so much—I’ll never forget you . . .
Penny Porter aka Girl Online xxx
Chapter Forty-Four
The next morning I’m woken up by Elliot hammering the Can I come over? code on the wall.
I knock back Yes, rub my eyes, and look at my alarm clock. It’s only 6:30 a.m. My heart sinks. What could have gone wrong now? Still half-asleep, I stumble downstairs to let him in.
“OK, I know you said you were never going to blog again,” Elliot says, pushing past me into the hall.
“Ever,” I say.
“Yes, never ever, whatever,” Elliot says, waving his phone about excitedly. “But there’s something I really think you ought to see.”
I stare at him. “Is it to do with what happened with Noah? Because if it is, then no I don’t.”
Elliot grins. “It is, kind of, but it’s so good. Seriously.”
I sigh. “OK, it better be.” I take the phone from him. The screen’s displaying Elliot’s Twitter notification feed.
“You’ve got your very own hashtag!” Elliot says breathlessly.
“What?” I look at the tweets. They all have the hashtag #WeLoveYouGirlOnline after them.
“There’s also #BringBackGirlOnline and #WeWant GirlOnline,” Elliot says proudly. “Since you posted last night it’s gone crazy.”
I start reading the tweets. They’re all saying really lovely things about how much they’re missing my blogs and how I should ignore the haters. Then I see one from @PegasusGirl.
I’m sorry I judged you. Please come back #WeLoveGirlOnline
Elliot looks at me. “Isn’t it great?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” And the truth is I don’t. What happened before has left me so scared of the online world that I truly don’t know if I want to go back there—especially now that I don’t have the anonymity of Girl Online to hide behind.
“You said that the online world isn’t real, but some of it is,” Elliot says. “Your blog is.” He points to his Twitter feed. “And this is. They really love you.”
• • •
For all of Friday and Saturday I deliberate over what to do with my blog, with Elliot giving me regular updates on the hashtag campaign. On Sunday morning, I’m wide awake as soon as the seagulls start squawking. In the end, I decide to do the one thing guaranteed to help me get my head straight—go out and take some photos. I meet Dad in the kitchen as I’m about to head out.
“Oh, are you going somewhere?” he says, looking at me, surprised.
“Yes, I thought I’d go and take some photos down at the beach, while it’s still empty.” I grab a banana from the fruit bowl and stuff it in my pocket.
“How long do you think you’ll be?”