My desires are foolish. The things I want are better kept to myself. The hand of silence is steady. The hard blade of silence is clean like night. The code is absolute. Silence is eternal and patient. Silence never makes a fool of itself like I have so many times.
— Henry Rollins, Solipsist (via onlywordsiknow)
When my absence doesn’t alter your life, then my presence has no meaning in it.
— unknown (via hopeinspiresme)
A man very much in love with his partner spoke about some of the impulses he had when they were in bed. After they had made love, he would lie next to her, with the urge, he said, ‘not to penetrate her, but to somehow envelop her.’ He didn’t know exactly what this meant, but he knew it wasn’t the same thing as sex. He wanted to ‘possess her, to take her inside me,’ and at the same time to map every point on his own body with hers. He imagined lying on her in such a way that every square inch of her body was touching his. This, he acknowledged, was impossible, and the thought of this impossibility haunted him.
— Darian Leader, The New Black: Mourning, Melancholia and Depression (via awritersruminations)