Last night I had an intensely vivid and procedural dream about getting a boob job. in my dream, i was there staring from the ceiling watching my chest get operated on, i was there for every second from hour 1 to hour 8 watching the scalpel dig into my skin with the careful hands of this surgeon guy who kinda looked like my barista. he was placing these plastic gelatinous blobs into the red muck of it all - fat, (organs?), ribs, the inside of nipples, or whatever lies beneath the skin of boobs. my mind was filling in the blanks with all sorts of guts. it was like watching my body from third person, and there was no feeling to it at all. it felt so surgical and cold and grey and perfect in the same way as like the macbook is with its metallic cold nothingless marketing of sleek. every edge sanded down, aluminum case. i woke up looking in the mirror and realizing i really dont have double DDs and my dream was a lie and im still stuck with my cup size of 30A. Shucks.
I guess i might as welllllllllll update you guys about officially living in NYC for 1 year all on my own..!!! People ask me why I moved to New york, why i bought a one way ticket immediately when i turned 18 and i didnt know how to answer that question for a long time. i think i was running from something, from my family, my life in the vacant suburbs, and something about knowing nothing and being thrown into everything felt so exhilarating. i was dropped off at JFK airport like a stray dog outside a supermarket and i was like sobbing and shaking and wow it felt so good. i was edging homelessness in Bushwick, and had lost so much weight so fast. but something about it felt like Freedom or an imitation of such. probably the closest ive ever felt to eroticism. I don't think it was bravery but more like desperation for feeling intensely alive
i guess outside the obvious hardships of like terrible housing, no stable job, burned bridges with family, no friends, blahblahblah... i think my real hardship was my spinal injury. i was lifting some insanely heavy concrete brooklyn hipster plant holders (lol), fell on my back, and because i didnt have health insurance i went untreated for over 6 months. there were days i literally couldnt walk. i lived in my fantasy but without a plan B reality jumped me 
i stopped creating art, posting on my site, doing anything at all. guys if ive been different this is whyyyyy :( eventually it got so bad i ended up in the ER, i was thinking like BRUHH is this what i get for saying the r word too much... buuuut i got health insurance YAY and started physical therapy. now most days im completely normal, but maybe once a month one wrong move and my spine basically collapses, everything shifts around looks kinda like scoliosis and i cant rly walk. then its medicine cocktail yum and bed for a few days. One thing about me tho is U CANT KILL ME BITCH!!!! Imma pop up like a roach u smacked 10 times!
i think how you larp is how you live. like i work sooooooooooo much 5 days a week all day basically buuuut my two days off i LARP it all, i get facial acupuncture, cupping 4 my back, caviar, uber blacks to the korean spa, laying in the grass in my dolce gabbana dress eating cherries, coney island beach trips. OH god and shopping. So. Much. Shopping. i opened my ROTH IRA two weeks ago and was likr truly looking at my spendings - I SPEND MORE ON CLOTHING on my two days off than i do on rent every month...!>!?!?!?! i feel my life is so empty, voidless of connection, true love, meaning, and full of illusions and for my two days off i just try to fill them with status symbol after status symbol to convince myself i have some kind of control or success in the midst of my wasting away youth.. like ive just always wanted to be a winner ya know? which in turn means ive always deeply felt like a loser
sometimes moments of the real me peek through, like when i stare a little too long at a woman with a crazy facelift, or when i look out at the sky and its that soviet shade of blue. its gotten to the point where if i recognize someones from the south (like me) i catch myself subconsciously putting on a slight southern tinge to be more "relatable" and ultimately sell more. I think thats why im such a good server because at work i am a liar. i tell fake wholesome stories. i pretend to know the apparently "new york famous" people they speak about. i laugh at jokes i dont even understand. i put an italian accent when reading out wine bottles to sound like i know, make up tasting notes on the spot. i cant even drink wine first of all im 19 and second of all im injecting my own peptides and alcohol fucks with that. but every week im #1 in wine sales & food sales ayyyyyyyy (eyeroll emoji) its all an illusion
LAWL one time i served the Rothschilds (yes it literally said rothschild as the last name on the card) and they brought their own wine which we looked up in the back of the kitchen and it cost like $15,000 dollars. i snuck a lil splash onto a spoon and when i tried it i legit couldnt taste the difference between that and any other red wine. btw they somehow made the room feel colder. i cant explain it. something about the way they moved felt strangely lifeless like we weren't really there.
ive been asked by customers at work how i keep my skin perfect, i always resort to talking about my foundation instead of the truth which is my daily GHKCU injection protocol, PRF treatments, microcurrent+redlight therapy, microneedling. revealing who i truly am, what i truly live, to any of the people i serve would be like blasphemous. even i dont let myself see that when im clocked in
Ok outside of all of that i am a Dolly. I live on the internet, actually have a hard time connecting to people in this real world, we arent in the same reality, i live in a Perfect one. (to be truthful, i dont have any irl friends) A snowglobe filled with FOREVER love and light and obsession, a girl behind glass. a collection of umbrellas to match my outfits, TheRealReal shopping sprees, gossiping with grandma over some boy who just cant quite handle me or my world- and then she interupts me to talk about how she thinks im anorexic (Ugh having to beat the allegations ALL the time!) I did what I had to do to get the dream body, when I said I was gonna be your doll... I meant it! i've always wanted to be the mannequin behind the glass
I think the only way ive truly ever been able to dream up a life of glamour and beauty, is to see just how far I could take it. I love sacrifice, and I'm on my way to sacrificing everything and anything to get what I want. i think we create our worlds, our faces. i know i definitely created mine, just like mama and all of her work she had done. maybe thats why my dream ended up on an operation table.. like somewhere inbetween what we are given and what we make of ourselves is the scalpel
i want to become an image, but i am still trapped inside a body and a life
Xo Ms. SONYA GUTS
