I'm just a human being. Well, other's may say I'm a few different human beings. I've got a couple of names and personalities up my sleeve. Eh, I'd like to say I'm just flexible. So, let's start this over again. Shall we?
I'm Sandra, Kay, Kyle, and Hollow. I'm twenty-one years old and I DO NOT party. I don't see the point in getting plastered and sitting around on my ass. I've been there and done that. I grew out of that stage pretty early on in life. I read more than the average human being should. I write. I write short stories. I do not call myself a writer. I have a cat, a rat, and a couple of fish. People like to leave me their things in my home for me to take care of. I have an apartment, a boyfriend, a job, and a few friends left. They're all kind of important to me. Go figure. I smoke. I have protected sex. I drink a (as in one) beer while at home or crown and coke (one, again) every now and then. Again, I'm over all that stoner and plastered off my ass shit. I'm also pierced and inked. I like paying people to stab me with needles. It's enjoyable - what can I say?
I attend my local community college when I can afford it because I fucked up my life. I'm putting it back together, but that takes a lot of work and time. There's a lot of falling on my face and trying to get back up going on in my life. I believe I may actually enjoy fucking things up. Yanno, with the whole worthless complex and everything. Anyway, before I'm thirty I'd like to be a practicing clinical social worker. No, that doesn't mean I want to jack your kids. It means when somebody else jacks them and returns them it'll be a good idea to send them to me for therapy. Fun stuff, huh? I'm already a therapist. I just hope to get paid for it some day. We're allowed to dream, correct?
My odd quirks? I collect erotica and porn. However, I don't sleep with every Tom, Dick, Harry, Betty, Sue, and Jane. Don't bother -- you won't get anywhere. I wear a Saint Jude (Saint for Fuck Ups - AKA : Lost Souls) necklace, but I'm agnostic. I sometimes sleep in my car because I want to. Not so much because I have to. I rarely if ever get lost driving. It's damn near impossible. If, by chance, I do get lost -- I actually get dizzy. I peal the skin off of my lips without realizing that I'm doing it. I have reversed social anxiety disorder. That means I feel horribly uncomfortable in small groups, but extermly comfortable in massive crowds. I keep a bottle of sand hidden somewhere in my place. If you can find it.. I'll give you twenty bucks. I also buy orbits bubble mint gum in bulk. If I don't have gum I die. It's a funny addiction. If I don't have a bottle of water in my bag I die too. I carry a very large messenger bag with the following inside: A bottle of water, two packs of gum, two packs of cigarettes, a book, a note pad, a pentel R.S.V.P. fine pen (I'm anal about my pens too), a bic lighter, my wallet, my evil cell phone, and usually a few fliers.
I've got opinions flying out of me. I've got a soap box, and I'm not afraid to use it!
"I am able to change so I live without regret. Without remorse. Only a remix. I am drunk. I am sober. Heaven doesn't want me and hell's afraid I'll take over. Don't bother trying to censor me or shut me up because it won't work. I am cold and distant. Yet warm and close to those who deserve to see that side of me -- part of me -- the heart of me. You find me so hard to understand in your world, the world you perceive to be so normal. I am deformed, scorned, reborn. I am me and I know exactly who I am, what I am, and the wrath I bring. The ugly beauty, the lying truth, the virgin whore, the quiet storm. A lover, a fighter, a saint, a sinner, a sister, a daughter. Old school. A beginner. I have decorated myself with love, hate, truth. All of you, both of you, none of you, more than one of you. With lips like sugar, eyes like meat. I've watched men come, go, and cheat. I sleep to dream and dream of sleep. I've been crucified, justified, and mortified by my behavior -- both feminine and masculine. I am a contradiction and a juxtaposition. My relief is my release and only time will tell as is well that ends well. I am unsweetened, unclean. Been called a drama queen, ex-girlfriend, ex-member, the tantrum, the temper. I point the finger -- take the blame. And this time I will own the name because nobody is going to ruin me. -- If I have to I will ruin myself... and it will be my ruin.. "
