Sara Wilson
Bio
I love Ugly Things.
I try and be active AND interactive.
I write... whatever I feel.
Sometimes it's happy.. sometimes it isn't. But it's real. And it's me.
Stories (162)
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"For Your Convenience"
So, I have this thing where I'm a little unhinged from time to time. I went from having zero filter as a child to not speaking up at all in my teens and early twenties. I think I'm starting to find a balance, but occasionally, I pop off and don't know how to say things "nicely"... I guess.
By Sara Wilsonabout 16 hours ago in The Swamp
Unstoppable
There's a moment in every woman's life when she realizes she's done shrinking. Done apologizing. Done carrying the weight of expectations that were never hers to begin with. That moment.... that spark... is where transformation begins. It's where the world's attempts to drown her only teach her how to breathe deeper. It's where every push against her becomes the force that launches her higher.
By Sara Wilson4 days ago in Poets
Becca. Top Story - March 2026.
"Everything is so... flat." Denille said stupidly as she looked around her new neighborhood. She looked around at the muted desert where even the smallest sign of life seemed to have given up. The plant life was shrubs that were half cooked by the heat and where there should have been a lawn, a mess of white rocks laid glistening in the sun. Even the sky looked stretched thin, like the sun had ironed it smooth. She’d moved from Riverside, where at least there were hills, but here in Barstow, everything felt baked and brittle.
By Sara Wilson7 days ago in Fiction
The Potty Stick
Elijah woke up before the sun, which was strange, because Eli was only two and usually only woke up when something loud or bright or sticky told him to. But this morning his eyes popped open all by themselves. His room was still dark-blue and soft, with Super Mario everywhere. There was a poster of Mario jumping on the wall, little Mario's racing on his blanket, and even a Mario smiling from the nightlight like a tiny glowing coin. Nothing about his room looked different... but something felt different.
By Sara Wilson10 days ago in Fiction
Super Mysterious
If I were rich (and I don't mean "buy a small island" rich, just "I can finally unclench my jaw and maybe afford Whataburger without guilt" rich), the very first thing I'd do is unleash my inner financial superhero. I wouldn't have a cape or a secret bat cave or anything like that... my uniform would be my same old torn up fishnets and boots. My lair would be my house. My super power would be eradicating debt, one unsuspecting soul at a time. Not because I dream of a zero balance like some people dream of the next iPhone (though not going into debt for a phone would be pretty sweet), but because debt is the arch nemesis of joy. It's that constant, nagging villain that doesn't seem to die. It's impossible to focus on your secret origin story, let alone your passions or purpose, when your brain is busy calculating which bill can survive being paid two days late.
By Sara Wilson23 days ago in Confessions
