♥ about me. ♥
O kay, so here's the deal. I'm a model, an actress, a singer, a musician, a songwriter , Hooters Girl, and most importantly, I'm an animal lover. ♥ I'm working hard and dreaming big in pursuit of my career. My biggest dream is to headline on Broadway one day, or star in a big blockbuster film having the honor of working with some big well-loved stars. But anyways, I more or less just want to be happy. Who doesn't?
So anyways, here I am. Au naturel. I'm pretty much a down to earth girl. Grew up in a small town. My life is just like the story of the ugly duckling. I have an IQ of 132. I also have the bipolar disorder that comes along with it - and can openly admit it. I love to help out, and strongly believe in team work. I'm a lover, not a fighter. I'm softhearted and sometimes care too much. I'm super sensitive, but at the same time super strong. I tell it like it is, and I express myself openly. If you don't like it, ask me if I care. On that note, here's a question for you: if you don't like me, then why are you here?
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like the wind...
I come and go, here and there, breezing through things like the wind. Sleepless nights and sugar-glazed get-going days fill my schedule. No one can stop me. No one can understand my feelings buried deep down inside. Like the wind, no one knows my true intentions. No one can really predict me. Like the wind. I walk with noisy breath, audible only to those who pass close by. I feed the fire. I feed the fire like the wind, making things worse or seem worse than they already are. I’m an instigator. Like the wind. An unstoppable, beautiful, mysterious thing: like the wind. Whistling my way through fear, understanding the sky’s premonitions of future cloudy days. Like the wind. I breeze through each day, like the wind. Sarah, like the wind.
the red shoes
There’s no place like home... I stood there, watching in the mirror as I clicked the heels of my red shoes together. When those shoes were on my feet, I was Dorothy. Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. I always wore the red shoes, no matter where we were going, or if they matched the clothing I was wearing. A five-year-old Dorothy Gale.
There was this day when my mother took me shopping, and of course I wore the red shoes – my very own ruby slippers. While my mother was trying on clothes in the dressing room, I waited patiently in the dressing room right next to the one my mother was in. I stood there, watching in the mirror as I gently tapped my heels together three times, repeating: there’s no place like home. Just then, the saleswoman came into the dressing room and saw me standing in front of the mirror. She asked me where my mother was, and I told her she was in the next room trying on clothes. She asked me what my name was, and I told her my name was Dorothy, without any hesitation. I could hear my mother laughing as quietly as she could in the room next door. The saleswoman smiled, and remembering back now I can tell by the expression on her face that she was holding back laughter as well. She said all right, then left the dressing rooms. When my mother came out and as we were leaving, she told the saleswoman my real name as I stared down at the red shoes, embarrassed that my mother was revealing my real name.
Childhood lies. Didn’t really cause too much trouble – at least this one didn’t.
