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Rated: 18+ · Monologue · Other · #2192204
Sarah is just like you and me, only a little different
Sarah

         Going down is the best. It doesn’t wear me out like sex does. And if the guy eats right, his cum actually tastes pretty good. Or maybe I’ve just gotten used to it. I have been a prostitute for seven years now- seven!
         My name is Sarah and I’m twenty-eight years old. I’m a legal prostitute in Nevada, just outside of Reno. When I was twenty-one, I was a pre-med student at the University of Nevada, Reno. Then aliens started talking to me. They told me I could finish my education on their planet and be a doctor aboard their mothership.
         The aliens are nice people whenever they come around. That’s why I don’t take as much medicine as the doctors want. I still like to talk to them once in awhile. I also don’t want to gain too much weight, or I might not get as much business.
         The doctors say the aliens aren’t real, but the aliens say the doctors don’t know what they’re talking about because they can’t see them. I believed the aliens for a long time because they’re such nice people and the doctors just want to make more money by giving me shots and pills.
         My name is Sarah and I have paranoid schizophrenia. When I was twenty-one the aliens told me to run out into the desert naked and I would get beamed up to their space ship, but it never came. The police found me and took me to a hospital. The aliens kept telling me not to take any medicine, but they held me down and forced me to take a shot. After that happened, all the aliens went away.
         I got really sad when I realized everything I thought was happening wasn’t real. I also realized that I couldn’t continue in school because I couldn’t concentrate on the meds and I can’t tell what is real without them. I became a prostitute because it’s the only job I know I can do. But I don’t want you to feel bad for me, because most schizophrenics can’t work at all, so I’m pretty lucky.
         My parents don’t like it. They think all I need is Jesus to make the aliens go away. They also think it’s wrong to be a prostitute. When I first got medicated, I thought about killing myself. I realized I couldn’t tell what was real and I couldn’t become a doctor like I always dreamed and my parents didn’t understand.
         I don’t think about killing myself anymore, because I’m doing pretty well. I have my own apartment, I make pretty good money at my job and the aliens are always nice when they show up. And the meds are good enough for me to know they aren’t real and they don’t distract me too much. And they never show up when I’m working because I’m too focused on what I’m doing.
         I’m a pretty good prostitute, I’m proud of myself for that. I like what I’m doing. I mean, I wish I could go back to school and be a doctor, but this is okay for now. My psychiatrist says I might one day be stable enough to do something else with my life. That would be pretty cool. He says that some schizophrenics get totally better. I hope I do, but I’ll miss talking to the aliens if they go away.
         My name is Sarah and I have had sex with exactly 364 men and 45 women. Every single one has told me that I am beautiful and that I’m a really good prostitute. I am twenty-eight years old and I have never had sex without being paid for it. In the family I grew up in, you were supposed to wait for marriage. I don’t believe that anymore. I don’t believe in god. If the aliens aren’t really real, why should I think god is?
          I want to have a boyfriend one day. But I hope I can find someone who is okay with me being a prostitute who talks to aliens. One time another schizophrenic woman wanted to be my girlfriend. But I don’t really want to date a girl. I don’t mind having sex with girls though if I’m getting paid.
         My name is Sarah and I am a person. I am a human being. If you met me on the street, you wouldn’t think I was any different from you. I exist just as much as you. And, just like you, all I want is to be happy.
© Copyright 2019 Spencer James (borderofny at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2192204