chr!st!na

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bmezine

i’m a photography major at the university of the arts, and for once in my life i feel like i'm at the right place at the right time. i work at urban outfitters on walnut street. i usually don’t have dreams, but when i do, they’re in black and white. and i always talk in my sleep, and according to some of my friends i apparently quote sid and nancy when i do. i'm mental for soy chai, sushi, and green tea ice cream. i love love love hipbones and clavicles. i have seventeen piercings to speak of at the moment, and my lobes are stretched to 1/2" and 4g. i have "il etait une fois..." in jean cocteau's handwriting tattooed on my left wrist, two stars on my hips, and a little triforce behind my right ear. next on my list are card suits on my ankles, a silhouette of hank venture on my leg, and a tiny plaid ninja on my foot. i have a bunch of metal on my list, but a christina (it's sort of a given, since it's my namesake) is up near the top, right before a scarification piece on my side. i'm allergic to cats, but i live with a cat anyway, and my roommate and i are getting a ball python next. i love hilary duff movies. red roses and calla lilies are the way to go; my windows are all shaded by drying roses hanging from the ceiling. i don't like my freckles, except for the one named after liz. my doppleganger lisa and i are moving into an apartment on south street, where the number one rule is that you can only play guitar hero if you're wearing short shorts and a sweatband. money burns a hole in my pocket because i buy way too many books, especially of french poetry. i’m a coloratura soprano and i sing opera, and if i wasn't majoring in art i would probably be majoring in music. my personal idol? maria callas. because no one belts out the queen of the night aria like she does. i would really like someone to dance with me in the snow someday. human for sale says i'm worth $2,619,600. my thoughts are constantly fighting back the urge to simply slip into a daydream about robert smith and davey havok. lately i've been waking up at 4:48 am every morning for no reason whatsoever, so i've decided to just stop sleeping and become nocturnal. i hope my eyes get really really big like those cute little sugar gliders. i am betty fucking crocker's evil twin, and i will make the best stuffed shells and apple crisp you have ever had. and don't even try to resist my grilled cheese samiches. if you quote baudelaire, lautreamont, or batailles to me you've gotten halfway to my heart. i fall too fast and talk myself out of people too easily. my favorite color is red . i have this complete adoration for old disney movies. you could probably win a piece of my heart if you play the little mermaid or beauty and the beast at the right time. my shower is filled with everything black raspberry vanilla from bath and body works, because i don't like smelling like fifty different things. i actually plan on switching everything to lavender though, because the oil that my piercer gave me for my sternum has lavender in it, and smells fucking amazing. i would do anything to meet erwin olaf – i’m just so enamored with his work. i trip on the cracks in the sidewalk. i trust too easily and fall too fast, and as a result i've become a very lonely person. but i don't mind having time to think. still, my biggest fear is that i'll always be alone, because nothing good seems to stick around in my life. i still haven't figured out why other peoples' beds are softer and toast always falls smuckers side down, but i’m hoping that someday someone will be able to tell me. i don't act shy, but i have a lot of trouble trusting people enough to have those love brilliant/ ridiculous talks about innane theories of life that i love so much, because i've never been able to top the feeling of a night-long conversation aout everything and nothing. but comfortable silences are nice too, especially when they include starry nights.