Holy Shit.

I feel like a child.
An antsy, obnoxiously excited child.

Secrets, Oh Secrets.

It makes me smile when I see celebrities with off-white teeth.
It makes them more attractive.
Good for them.

I have bland taste in food.
I fantasize about adding spices and veggies to my omelet.
This beautiful, colorful piece of food, but I know I never would.

There was laughter outside.
Young boys sneaked into the pool.
It is fucking cold outside.
As a kid, the weather can't bring you down.
Not even dirt can lower your esteem.

I loved playing in mud and creating funerals for my toys.

Morning Thoughts

If vampires existed, would I be as strong as Buffy?
Do I even know the concept of punching someone?
Making a fist?
If my nipples took over my boobs, would he tell me?
What if our periods were just five constant minutes of bleeding?
Would it gush?
I wish I knew how to use a sword.
Is showering even worth it?
I wonder if I am a redhead in another dimension.
A lot of things are possible in other dimensions.
I hope my hooker alter ego from dimension 9 uses protection.
I want someone to keep my brain after I die.
Maybe that will make having children worth it.
I probably need another toothbrush.
If someone had a germ detector for sight, they would gag at the sight of me.
I think it just makes me immune.

By the time I'm done processing my thoughts, I have ten minutes left over to get ready.
This is why I take the precaution of getting up at least one hour ahead of time.

Taking a walk.

I step outside and smell the sharpness of the grass.
It stings a little and I can smell an undertone of dirt.
Clumpy Dirt.

As I walk along with Kahlua tugging forward, I see her waddle.
She anticipates scents and leans in on them.
She hovers with all her strength to get an idea of what aroma haunts that spot.
I always imagine a corgi did it.

The cement is content with heat that brightens its complexion.
I squint and see little particles floating,trying to get into my nose.

My nose has been defensive.
It has swollen and grown layers of mucus to block any signs of oxygen.
It comes out in greens, pinks, reds and yellows.
Tries to suggest it has artistic merit.

I am in a facial war.

Kahlua hunches and looks like she is sitting in an uncomfortable, invisible chair.
I prepare my doggy bag for her fecal creation.
The shit shines and I can tell it's squishy.

The bag lingers onto the sticky stink and I feel my fingers mashing the shit with the plastic.
A breeze can reassure you of a good day or remind you that poop is unique because it can create cosmic scents that make you gag in a split second.

Through heavy huffs, Kahlua smiles up at me.
She is proud of what just happened.

Rant: Begin

I don't like you much.
You are this bag of skin who wastes time in dramatic stuttering.
Poor thing; it must be hard.
If you gain any wisdom from this chance we have at breathing, I would be surprised.

Don't clump me together with this mash-up.
I am not going to change my views and you will never truly understand where I am coming from.
That's fine.
I mean that with no sarcasm or anger.
It's fine.

Rant: End.

Malfunction.

I feel like I am going to flip the fuck out.
All of a sudden I get this urge to punch children.
I want to scream at random people.
I want my alter ego to take over and laugh obnoxiously at people who say stupid shit.

I want to tell you to get the fuck over yourself.
I can too.
We can trade.

Way to keep a sister informed.

I guess our relationship is too new for you to actually call or write or try.

GOD DAMN FUCKING TITS.
MOTHERFUCKING SHIT NIPPLES.

Classroom Spectacle.

Mouth breather with the spiked hair a few rows back raises his hand and says:
"Well, men are stronger and can lift bodies better plus, they are in higher demand so it makes sense that they get paid more."

My body becomes tense.
I need to say something.

Let me tell you about Greasy Pony-tail man.
He's the student who always has a comment on everything.
If he were spitting out intelligent sentences rather than ignorant/abstract fragments which he considers to be processed thoughts, it would be different.
He MUST comment on what he just heard:
"According to studies, they have shown that because women give birth and when they do, they take priority on children, this is a reason that they get paid less."
(FYI: this is what I interpreted after he mumbled and stuttered through, as he grasped random words from the air)

My brain feels like it may explode any second.
I can't let that happen!
I MUST say something.

I raise my hand as high as it could possibly reach and I let it out.
I feel a sweat mustache forming and my face is pink.

"It is INEQUALITY people. Do not justify it with 'man stronger, man make more money' or because of the fact that I have the ability to give birth to a child. If both a man and a woman have gone through the exact same training, it isn't fair that a man would get paid more JUST BECAUSE."

It gets quiet for a second then Miss Country Accent chimes in:
"Well, if it were firefighters, I would want a man to rescue me, because I know I would still have a chance to live."

I am not a fan of pain, but at that moment I just wanted to bash my head into my desk.

Oh, Oklahoma, how I hate you sometimes.