Personal blog mother fuckers.
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Poets and Losers:
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My name is Sara. I'm 21, have very fake red hair, and I don't exist. I like the internet, girls, procrastinating, and making shit like stained glass, poetry, and weird prose. I like to answer questions, and I'm impossible to offend. Unless you are my @#$%#@#$ Jess and you make the mistake of calling me high maintenance. Other than that it's impossible. Odds are, if you are alive, regardless of if you exist or not, I love you.
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The first thing I remember from the dream was sitting with an older couple.
They were probably late 50’s and a bit overweight. I was finishing up helping them pick out fish—gouramis—but instead of a pet store we were in some kind of administrative building, and this task seemed like a more serious matter, like a bank loan or couples therapy.
We went to sit down at a window, and when I looked out at the lawn I saw two large gouramis swimming in the air. In my dream this was normal. They had rainbow spots on them. Not cartoon rainbow, but beautiful iridescence.
I said something like “Oh wait! Before you decide, there are those ones too! And they have rainbow spots on them!” The woman then said something like, “Oh no, I don’t think so. We’re trying to keep this relatively conservative.” When she said this she looked with obvious distaste at my rainbow bracelet. “We’re from Utah after all.”
In my dream this meant they were anti-gay (I have no idea what this had to do with Utah) and I was shocked. In the dream I knew this couple would not be using my services again because of my sexual orientation. The way the woman was looking at me said, “How disgusting.” I was speechless and hurt. I felt small.
The scene then changed to a lunchroom full of kids where a blonde drag queen who looked a bit like Hedwig was doing a gaudy song and dance number. Luckily the lunchroom was clearly equipped for such things, as there were disco lights built into the ceiling and glitter cannons in the walls.
This didn’t cheer me up as much as it should have.
I trudged up the glass staircase in the middle of the room and at the top was a guy, who in my dream I knew to be a young history teacher, sitting with a beer and a bong. I looked at him relieved and said I could really use a hug. He gave me a very genuine hug and I started to feel better, but then he was being pulled away.
Then I woke up and showered.
Every year for Halloween I find some funky dress in Salvation Army, rip it up, and bloody the living hell out of it.
Bam. Zombie.
This year I saw this very form-fitting, figure-flattering black dress, and decided it would make the PERFECT French maid outfit. I also got an old ratty white pillowcase, some tall black heels, and an old white leather purse. When I went home that weekend, I told my mother that I was going to be a French maid for Halloween.
She looked at me disappointed.
Almost sad, and said,
“Oh but honey… you’re a dead girl.”
I have never received a greater compliment in my life.
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when my insides get out of control I stop having thoughts
Inside my head to my eyes my brain looks like a cave filled with smoke and mudwater and a lot of purple with the sound constant of ten thousand tvs tuned to a snow station on full volume together
Is leaving tomorrow for school in Boston. I’m going to be head over heels in love with this chick until ∞ years after the universe implodes.
I love her beyond any way of expression.
This sucks so bad, but it’s exactly what needs to happen.
My plan for tonight is to go watch a movie on my computer on her netflix account while I sew my first patch to my backpack and alternate between weeping silently to myself and screaming with the dogs about how much I miss her.
She’s completely changed my life. I’m so in love. For ∞.
And I’m so fucking happy right now. It’s been a year and a half since this whole fuckarow started, and I hope we have many more years of crazy fucking insanity together. Even though we’re apart right now. Everything is going according to plan.
Quick fun story:
Today I yelled at her that parting would be so much easier if she was a huge douchebag. She then tried several different methods of being one. Including telling me she hated me, telling me she faked every orgasm, and making a joke about my beloved dead rat Pig by saying, “Oh hey look! Pig just walked in the door! She’s back! …… NOPE! Chuck Testa.” She’s perfect. She’s fucking perfect.
