important note: this story might not be for everyone. it requires an open mind and a little patience. it also gets darker and explores sexually suggestive themes

Confessions Of A Gold-Digger

#1. Death To Barbie

Girls, let's be realistic.

Money is all that matters.

Those hippies spewing ish about "money can't buy happiness"? They can afford no ferrari and they clearly haven't been to Disneyland. Or bought nutella.

I'm an aspiring gold-digger. This is my story.

And I will burn you to crisp if you try ta get between my money and me. (Is it "me and my money" or "I and my money"? Who cares? I'm gonna be so rich Grammar Nazis won't correct me. BAM!)

So I'm supposed to spill how I died to ya'll strangers?

Bitch please, death is private. It usually takes dinner, ice-cream and some sparkling conversation before I spill my guts about my sad "death story".

To be honest, I dunno how I died.

Hell, I didn't know I died until this Barbie doll went all,

"You're here because you killed yourself."

So I looked around and I saw that I was in a garden and it had a lake in it. I could describe it with a bunch of adjectives. But seriously, I need to describe a garden for you? Never seen a garden or lake, before?Someone's been living underneath a rock.

And oh, the leaves of the trees were pink. Sakura? I don't know! What am I? Google?

"Wow, that's quite the way to start a conversation, Barbie."

I killed myself? Pfft. I am so in love with me that I'm pretty sure it offends other people.

"My name's Elena."

"Cool. I'm -" I don't know my name. Fabulous.

"You've forgotten your name," Barbie sounded surprised. "But you can call yourself Elena, too. You're going to take my place-"

"I don't want your name. I am no copycat. And let's just pause for a sec. I'm new to this whole death," I made air quotes, "thing. So give me a crash course that makes sense. And if you try to make death sound vague I will throw you so high into the air, the Eiffel Tower will be jealous."

I would've gone all soap-opera depression about my death if I knew about my bloody previous life. For all I know, I might been a very suicidal turtle.

"You're not very good at threatening." Elena looked at the lake. "I'm going to keep this short. We're running out of time. Living beings of any kind fight to survive, even ants and gorillas. Surviving is the law of the universe. So when some living being takes their own life, it upsets the universe's balance. Weird, unpredictable things happen. I have no idea what's planned for you. All I know is that you're going to be reborn into me. You're going to have my face. Which year you'll end up in? Which universe? Will you arrive as a babe from your mother's womb or will you fall from the sky? I do not know. All I know is that you'll have a second chance. That's all that counts."

"No, no, no!" I shook my head."That's not a crash course, Barbie. You just vomited philosophy, metaphysics and some cheerleader slogan. If I were you my crash course would go like this:" I ran my hand through my hair for dramatic flair,"'You killed yourself so weird shit happened so you gonna be reborn into me. Congratulations, you gonna be hawt. And, BTW, you might even end up in the Dinosaur era, hatching from an egg. I dunno. Universe is cray cray'."

"You remind me of Lampo." She giggled. She was perfect. Blonde hair, blue eyes and I just knew that she was a great person, too.

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I had no idea how I looked. I looked at my hand to remember what my skin color was but it was like my mind blurred every time I tried to focus on my appearance. The whole thing unsettled me.

I didn't remember how I looked.

No name. No face. Who am I?

Okay. I wasn't gonna go all Philosophy 101 on my ass.

All I knew was..

I'M SEXY AND I KNOW IT!

Gotta stick to self-love and all that crap.

"Two more minutes." Elena said. The lake started glowing a bright yellow.

"Will I ever.. figure out the mystery that is me?" Will I ever learn about my past life? The idea of never getting to know who I was terrified me.

"Maybe. Maybe not. But they say our past defines us in ways we can't imagine. What do you want more than anything in the world?"

"Money." I didn't even have to think.

"I think I know what you want," Barbie said.

"Oh, really?" I mocked. I'm no 2nd Grade jigsaw puzzle. I'm a complex person. Or suicidal turtle. I dunno. What was I?

She looked at me straight in the eye. "You want a love that consumes you, passion, adventure.. maybe even a bit danger. I don't know what your past is but I feel that you don't want to survive anymore. You want to live."

And it went blank. Death is truly a white light of nothingness.

And all I could think was that if I was gonna look like her in my next life, I was gonna get a huge diamond ring on my finger in no time.

Baby, I'm gonna be smokin' hot. Jealous?

Step 1: Make sure you're gorgeous. If not, plastic surgery will do the trick. And, oh yeah, being reborn into a Barbie works too.