#dear max

Did you know you can hide money in people’s pockets if they won’t let you pay them back? That’s a free tip from Billy to you.

THE AI:

It’s not fair to me that you’re ignoring me like this. I’ve had to be the mature one through this entire breakup. You even wussed out of breaking up with me, so I, the girl who has been in love with you for four years and still is, had to approach you and promise I would never hate you and basically break up with myself for you. Now, you’re ignoring my texts, making plans in a group chat with everyone but me, avoiding me at school, and getting offended when I treat you as a friend, even though I’ve always called you cuss words, even if your chosen nickname has gone from bitch to asshole. You were my best friend. You’re one of four fucking people I care about. And one might have committed suicide or blocked me himself for all I know. Don’t you realize that you’re actually killing me? 

Getting to Know Danielle Keil

Please help me give a big Hoosblog welcome to Danielle Keil! Danielle Keil grew up in the Chicagoland area. A recent transplant, she is enjoying the Mississippi life, especially the pool in her backyard. Danielle has been happily married for over 10 years, and has two young children, a daughter and a son, who are exact replicas of her and her husband. Danielle’s love language is gifts, her…

I feel like I keep repeating to myself the same old things, like a 30cm long nail that I’d slowly hammer in the middle of my forehead, but so numb I could not even realize what I’m doing. I wish I’d learn, I wish for it to stop, I wish for my brain to pause and leave me disconnected with my head full of complete silence.

But it’s always packed with thoughts that collide with eachother; and my ears are buzzing, and I feel sick to my stomach, and my strenght is gone and lying down, face to the floor doesn’t help the tiredness because I’m not physically exhausted. Obviously it’s just mentally, my anxiety pouring out of my ears, nosestrils and mouth.

The necessity to refrain myself from reaching makes my skin feels like it is scaling like old paint on a decrepit wall, like my fingers being pulled backwards. My eyes are flooded with tears that I don’t understand nor control, my fists are  driven to the table, one, two, three times in rage.

I’m stained with bruises that I can’t wear with pride, there’s this constant pressure on my carotid that makes me wanna puke what my stomach does not even contain. Yes I’ve lost weight, but only cause the hunger is barely there. I’m aware of the stupidity of my behaviour, the pain that I inflict to myself, just like squeezing my brain and draining the juice out of it, that every evidence  should actually reassure me.