socially posh is just a way to be an elegant catastrophe

1: Someone was a dick-head today. To sum things up, I was catching shit because I’m outspoken, I’m not little and giggly and tinny, I’m a complete smart-ass, I’m sarcastic as shit, and, oh yeah, I act like a male.

Well no shit Sherlock. Welcome to Sarah. I CAN dress all cutesy and act lady like and feminine and cutesy, but what’s the point? That’s not me. It never will be. Sometimes I dress up and do my hair. I wear eyeliner basically 24/7. Sometimes I still get emotional and girly. That’s the extent of it. If you don’t like it, exit my life. No one’s forcing you to be part of anything Sarah related, dig?

You’re free to go as you please, but if you do, don’t expect to just be able to come back any time.

2: I WAS CHANGING IT TO APPLY TO THE CURRENT SITUATION SARAH! (I missed Jake Casey!)

3: When I ignore you persistently, there’s a reason for it. Disrespect on that level flies from no one. I’m sorry. Believe me when I say I wish it could be else. I feel kind of like someone ripped a chunk of me off (as opposed to before when it was damaged but at least it was still there). But my despair at the situation is hardly enough to make me forgive you or reconsider my decision. There’s unconditional love, and there’s being walked on. I’ll never be able to deny that I care about you, but it doesn’t mean I have to let you in my life anymore.

4: Karate chop nooblets. I really need to fight someone [play fight. we all know I’m non-violent.] like right now.

5: Tattoo and/or piercing over break. After the car gets inspected. PLEASE! I’m really fucking excited?

6: I’m anti-social lately. If this applies to you and I’ve ignored you, consider this your sort of apology. It’s all you’ll be getting.

7: Something long about awkward situations, how I used to let myself be walked all over, and how now I have self esteem.

8: Sarah who doesn’t believe in sleep has been sleeping. A lot. I hate it. I’ve decided there’s a reason I stopped sleeping. Life is far better at night.

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