"so who the fuck is this sarah? do i know you? or are you just some famous writer from the fairytale land with some big vocabulario that turn me on?"

That's it. You've got me. My ruse has failed me. I am indeed some famous writer from the fairytale land. My name is "Esmeralda". This "Sarah" person took a one-way flight to Tahiti at approximately noon Eastern time on May 12, 2002 and has not been seen since. It has been rumored that she lives in a shack in the middle of a mango grove. Some say they awake at dawn and hear a flute being played in the distance, in celebration of the beautiful Tahitian sunrise. But they can never be sure, because for some reason, the island has seen an abundance of mango liqueur as of late.

As a famous writer from the fairytale land, I just thought it would be funny to dream up impossible situations to put this "Sarah" person in. Drudgery. Loneliness. A job at Sears of all things. Pa-ha. As if these things would happen to "Sarah", the Magical Mystical Tahitian Flute Playing Mango Farmer and Producer of Mango-Related Booze Extraordinaire.

Now, for all concerned, I think it best that I, "Esmeralda", continue to write in "Sarah"'s diary, because I am obviously a damn good writer, and will probably be turning this diary into a book someday. I'd like to call it "The Impossible Fake Life of the Great "Sarah" ". Can we say Nobel Prize for Literature?

*We now return to your regularly scheduled boring diary.*

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