Chelsea Ballinger

“Crying is good for the soul, or so they say.”

“Us women, no matter how crude we are with one another,we must always remember that we have two enemies in common.” The three of us look at each other confused, then back at Ms. Eleanor waiting for her to answer.“Men,” she sighs, still staring off. “And old age.”

“I hear your voice in my sleep. When I’m near you, I am aware of every fucking second your body shifts. When I’m not near you... I can’t even think straight because I’m too busy thinking about what stupid thing you said or visualizing every smile you give me. Seeing you with my brother awakens my dark heart... kissing you, carves out my soul. I forsake every itch my body has for you just so I cannot be trapped by you. Never in my life have I wanted a woman so much yet couldn’t do it because I know that once we really just...” I lift my hands up clawing at the air. “When we sink into each other... it will be over.”

“She fell down fifty-five floors. It took 10.6 seconds for her to hit the ground. It took my father forty-eight hours to come back home from his business trip in Sweden.”

“Are you trying to call me strange, Mandrake?” I pout playfully.He nods. “Your strange is what makes you sensational to me.”

“You know, I gave you the benefit of the doubt earlier when I first encountered you, the raging beast—oh I mean bitch. But nowI truly think that if greats who devoted themselves and achieved in some way at killing evil with kindness like Martin Luther King, Gandhi, Mandela, Mother Teresa, well I think if any of them met you... they truly would break that seal of devotion and beat the bloody shit out of you.”“I take that as a compliment.”“Oh, I know you do.”