Esskay.P

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esskay

Hey hey. I'm Sasha.
Digital storyteller,
Photographic narrator,
Hogwarts alum.
In real life, I write things. I speak fluent sarcasm. I'm unintentionally funny. My favorite thing is food. Guac is life. I'm a fountain of the most random information. I'm pretty, only because it's weird to call oneself beautiful. I'm weird in all the good ways. I live in the greatest city on Earth. I was Sasha before Beyonce was schizophrenic.
My life is stranger than fiction. But please, don't take my word for it.
My pen is mightier than my sword.

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@esskay.p

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Truth is, I'm not innocent. I'm just an abstinent fireplace that doesn't wanna feel the fire kindled between her legs anymore so don't mind the ashes. They're just evidence of how brightly I can glow and I wanna glow hard like one dim star on an otherwise starless night that shines just to prove its fidelity.

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a case of the mondays

Monday, June 11, 2012 || 11:22 AM

Today is a bad day. Like the book I read in the first grade, Alexander and the terrible horrible no good very bad day. I think my day is worse though. It's just one of those days where the strings you're pulling so tightly, trying to hold your shit together breaks and you feel like your life is falling apart until you remember that strings can be retied. I think that's called tomorrow but today, it's still Monday and my strings are still broken. I miss my brother so much that to think about it makes me physically sick. I know that this is just this Monday and maybe next Monday will be better. I know that this will get better and has gotten better in time. But I also know that on days like this, it feels like time has not only stopped, it's ceased to exist and today is December 31, 2009 and tomorrow will be December 31, 2009.

Yesterday, my five year old nephew came into my room and saw this picture of his uncle and said "who is this? He looks like my dad." How do I explain that there were three of us where now, there are only two? How do I tell him that when he was only two years old we sat in a church and in his innocence he didn't know why all the tears around him fell so he broke away from his mother with a smile on his face and went to lay a hand on the coffin in which his uncle lay? More importantly, how do I answer the simple question "who is this?" How do I tell him that it was someone he knew and loved when it's also someone he'll never remember and never see again?
I keep telling myself that everything happens for a reason. Telling myself, and forcing myself to believe it for the sake of my own sanity. But on a day when the tapestry of my life seems to be unraveling before my eyes, is the lie worth the sanity I'm barely hanging on to? All this, before noon. To say I need a drink would be an understatement.

Labels: friends and fam, personals

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