Me-not

“I understand, all right. The hopeless dream of being - not seeming, but being. At every waking moment, alert. The gulf between what you are with others and what you are alone. The vertigo and the constant hunger to be exposed, to be seen through, perhaps even wiped out. Every inflection and every gesture a lie, every smile a grimace. Suicide? No, too vulgar. But you can refuse to move, refuse to talk, so that you don't have to lie. You can shut yourself in. Then you needn't play any parts or make wrong gestures. Or so you thought. But reality is diabolical. Your hiding place isn't watertight. Life trickles in from the outside, and you're forced to react. No one asks if it is true or false, if you're genuine or just a sham. Such things matter only in the theatre, and hardly there either. I understand why you don't speak, why you don't move, why you've created a part for yourself out of apathy. I understand. I admire. You should go on with this part until it is played out, until it loses interest for you. Then you can leave it, just as you've left your other parts one by one.”
― Ingmar Bergman

“It must be because you're so approachable,' I say flatly. 'You know. Like a bed of nails.'
He stares at me, and I don't look away. He isn't a dog but the same rules apply. Looking away is submissive. Looking him in the eye is a challenge. It's my choice.
Heat rushes into my cheeks. What will happen when this tension breaks?
But he just says, 'Careful, Tris.”
― Veronica Roth, Divergent

“He turns toward me. I want to touch him, but I’m afraid of his bareness; afraid that he will make me bare too.
‘Is this scaring you, Tris?’
‘No,’ I croak. I clear my throat. ‘Not really. I’m only…afraid of what I want.’
‘What do you want?’ Then his face tightens. ‘Me?’
Slowly I nod.”
― Veronica Roth, Divergent

“She had blue skin,
And so did he.
He kept it hid
And so did she.
They searched for blue
Their whole life through,
Then passed right by-
And never knew.”
― Shel Silverstein, Every Thing on It