FictionLover

“All people are like that. Eager consumers of someone else’s pain. Whether they know it or not. Why deny them what they want?”
― Eric LaRocca, We Can Never Leave This Place

“Sanity, however, was so integral to his character that neither hysteria nor horror could long have their way with him.”
― Thomas M. Disch, Descending

“In every step, in every breath of yours, you’ll feel me…
I will always be in every sight you see, in ever voice you hear…
Your ears will be always filled with my whispers, my laughter and my cries…
My fights and tantrums will never leave your mind…
My footsteps, my shadow, will haunt you in every corner you go…
I will be your mornings, your days and nights…
I am the breeze that wraps your body in the morning…
I am the moonlight that bathes your body at night…
I am the fire that will burn you. I am the storm that you cannot handle…
I am the rain that will wash away the dust from your soul…
I am in your reflection. I am your shadow…
Your heart whispers my name in every beat…
Every word you say, echoes my name…
I am the secret you want to hide, but the secret that the world knows…
I am your dream…
I am your nightmare…
I am your darkest sin...
I am you…”
― Ama H. Vanniarachchy

“Today, the pain, the stoking, the thrill of someone new, the promise of so much bliss hovering a fingertip away, the fumbling around people I might have misread and don't want to lose and must second-guess at every turn, the desperate cunning I bring to everyone I want and crave to be wanted by, the screens I put up as though between me and the world there were not just one but layers of rice-paper sliding doors, the urge to scramble and unscramble what was never really coded in the first place - all these started the summer Oliver came into our house. They are embossed on every song that was a hit that summer, in every novel I read during and after his stay, on anything from the smell of rosemary on hot days to the frantic rattle of the cicadas in the afternoon - smells and sounds I'd grown up with and known every year of my life until then but that had suddenly turned on me and acquired an inflection forever colored by the events of that summer.”
― André Aciman, Call Me by Your Name