Outfit by:Atelier Karma
Splatter, or A How-To On Forgetting
In a year
The empty spaces between your fingers will belong to you again
The aching in your belly will fade
You will fill it with more laughter and more poetry and more shirtless pictures of Ryan Gosling
Your cheeks will regain their rosiness
Like God painted the red and warmth into you again
In a year
You will feel warm
You will feel so warm
You will stop seeing his smile in the corner of your eye
The bluish vines that grow inside you will bloom gardens of dripping inked jasmine and so much soul
Your fingerprints will become violin strings
When you touch your body
You will hear your music
Not his
In a year
You will splatter his existence across your bedroom floor
Once and for all
You will destroy to recreate
Build yourself anew
Without a high school love letter
Your shoulders will no longer be cold
Your spine will bend back to bravery
You will not be alone
Because you will learn to breathe
Without his cheating voice telling you To do it better
His pouty lips will be nothing more than a dull sand paper kiss on the back of your neck
His bee sting tongue will shrivel
And crack and fall like dust behind your television
In a year
You will find yourself forgetting him
More often than you remember him
You will slowly forget his number
You will slowly forget how he smells
Slowly, you will step forward with eloquence
Out of his chokehold shadow
But for now
Remind yourself:
Tomorrow, the Lord will give you morning, bread, and booze
Summer So Far
Now, considering that I am only about a month into my summer vacation…and considering that my vacation will really kick off in another month…when I hop across the pond and head to the Emerald Isle…for four weeks of insanity and Guinness and peat and…
Anyway, I have never really been a fan of the summer because 1) I work really hard to keep my skin this white, and I don’t need the blasted sun ruining it and B) wait…no 2) I usually end up lounging around in my pajamas all day. To which one might say, “Well, Sarah, do something.” And, to that, I would reply, “Yeah. Like?” Because there is nothing to do in this town. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing
Was I going somewhere with this?
3) There is absolutely no one here during the summer.
So, whilst I wallow in loneliness (but not really), let us consider the things I have done this summer.
A) I turned 21. This would have been a more epic experience if the semester had still been in session or if I had never had alcohol. Sadly, I don’t remember much about the night. I know that, when drinking, I go from being hilarious to swearing too much to falling asleep on my couch in my dress. I will also try to ride atop my mother like she is my personal pony. I’m sure I embarrassed the hell out of myself, but the foreign exchange student my best friend brought over didn’t seem fazed by my sloppiness.
I did discover a few things.
1) If the cranberry juice has no sugar, it will taste disgusting.
2) I will drink it anyway.
3) Someone should really take my phone once I start drinking. (I am sorry. I am so sorry. Everyone I texted. Yikes.)
B) An epic wedding that involved a lot of free food and free drinks. I happily partook in both. Our table was covered in glassware. It would have been embarrassing had I cared.
C) Scar revision. To me, that sounds horribly daunting. I spent the night prior to my surgery with a knotted stomach. Sadly, it was just as terrible as I expected it to be. Let me say: I don’t like needles. I don’t. I really don’t.
So, when I was told that I would need an IV, I wasn’t thrilled. I had never had an IV. Did I mention that I don’t like needles?
After ranting about the fat shaming happening on The View and being forced to remove my ring which I specifically wore to give myself confidence, I was ushered into a small room. By myself. Because I am over 18. Shit.
I got to put on a fancy hospital outfit which made me look sickly and more like Hazel Grace than I ever wanted.
The nurse asked me questions which I was happy to answer because, that way, I could put off having a needle shoved into my hand. Which, of course, happened shortly thereafter.
The nurse commented on my blood pressure and heart rate. Because both were slightly high. I informed her that I had never had an IV before, and I hate needles. Oh, and I have a tendency to pass out.
“That must be why everything is higher.” Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.
I kept eyeing the IV bag and nervously staring at the nurse while she kept writing things down. When she finally rose to retrieve the needle, I thought my heart was going to fall out of my ass. It may have; I’m not sure.
She almost lost me once that needle was in. I could feel that same blurred sensation that inevitably leads to me waking up with my crying mother and an irritated nurse. I brought myself back though because I am a badass, and I don’t have lungs that suck at being lungs (TFiOS reference number two. Allons-y.)
Once the IV was in, my parents got to come back to see me. My dad made a lot of jokes that did nothing to ease the tension. The nurse put a warm blanket on me. Turns out, that IV is room temperature. The room temperature was about 68 degrees. Having fluid that is roughly thirty degrees chillier than the rest of me surging inside my body was miserable. Like, I was slowly sinking into an ice bath. The warm blanket didn’t help. After a half hour or so of sitting there in a recliner with a needle shoved in and taped to my hand, my parents prayed for me (which brought me to tears) then took my glasses so I could go off to surgery. I am not good at walking without being able to see. Is anybody?
Another nurse who was probably my age led me to the operating room where I was promptly wrapped in wires and hooked up to machines. The last thing I said was, “It smells weird.”
Then, I was awake and resting in a different room. I could immediately feel the stinging sensation from the stitches in my nose. But, the nurse gave me pain medication. That was nice. All the pain medication was nice. I spent the first few days after my surgery in a Hydro-induced coma. Then my nose started to heal. And itch. Praise the Lord I am getting these stitches out tomorrow.
D) I got new glasses.
Shit. Is that it? Ireland, I need you now.
