Folge im Handumdrehen Einträgen, die mit #and stuff, #personal und #me getaggt sind.Registrieren
yo guys! that was incredibly hilarious and fun as always. if you’re new and dunno what this liveshow shiz is all about, i do them around 9pm on a tuesday! just go here: http://www.younow.com/users/danisnotonfire sign in with facebook and click ‘become a fan’ to join in :) hopefully see you all next week!
when I was younger I always assumed that women in games wore that weird non-existant only-boob-shielding armor because they were so fucking badass that they were next to untouchable. Hence they didn’t need heavy armor like dudes who obviously sucked so bad that they needed to protect every inch of their skin.
that was what child-me honestly thought
I’ve heard it said that the average person falls in love four times during their life. Now that he is gone I fall in love four times a month. I fall in love four times a week. Sometimes, under a clear summer sky when I am particularly drunk, I fall in love four times a night.
Love is a fun distraction, like cocaine or gambling. It all comes down to dopamine rushes in reward circuits.
It all comes down to the glorious, fleeting highs and desperate, drawn-out lows.
The average person laughs fifteen times a day.
I laugh fifteen-thousand times a day or I do not laugh at all.
He took his belongings with him in a box, like he was clearing himself out of my apartment. Like he was finally leaving a job he never really enjoyed. The box contained some records, a book he hadn’t read, the charger for his phone, and my funny bone, which he surgically removed when he stood in the rapidly constricting hallway and said I can’t do this anymore.
Nothing was funny for weeks, and then everything was hilarious, and now it is an entirely unstable combination of the two.
When I laugh my eyes tear up, like the wires inside me are crossed and I’ve forgotten what emotion I am supposed to be feeling. I wobble on the surface, perpetually brimming, waiting to tip, to spill like milk and curdle in the sun.
Sometimes when I cry my body shakes so hard that if someone saw me from behind, they’d think I was laughing.
They say the average person falls asleep in 7 minutes. This cannot be true. I lie awake for days staring at darkness. I only fall asleep after I have lived through the saddest part of the night.
I only find oblivion after I have cried or masturbated or both. Like my own fingers can fill the hollow inside.
I sleep lying on my stomach. I used to lie on my back but that is how he decided to leave. Lying on my back left me too exposed, allowed him to perform open heart surgery on me in the middle of the night.
Now I fall asleep feverishly in the microscopic hours with one hand beneath me, clutched to my chest, a clenched fist in the groove between my breasts.
Like my own fingers can fill the hollow inside.
The average person has over 1460 dreams a year.
1459 of mine were about the boy who left. The 1460th was about an acrobatic attempt. I tried to do a flip but I broke my neck instead. My head snapped back so that my oesophagus poked out of my throat and I lay mangled beneath a bright sun. I wrote poetry in the blood that spurted from my gullet.
I woke relieved that it wasn’t about him.
The average person sheds 0.7kg of skin a year.
I was born in the Year of the Snake. I should be allowed to slither out of myself and start again.
I am tired of the way humans moult, slowly flaking hairs and skin cells. It is inefficient. Healthy snakes shed their skin in one single piece. How nice it would be to step out of my old self, leave everything that has come before shrivelled in his bed sheets. My new skin would be clean and fresh and free from his fingerprints.
Reptiles shed their skin to remove parasites and allow for growth.
If I removed him from my life, I think I could learn to grow again.