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Hécate

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“There's this place deep inside myself that I'm trying to reach. A calm, quiet place where I don't exist as a girl with a body that grows too big. A place where I can finally sleep. I'm trying to reach that place, every day I try, and I know there will be a point when I'll be able to slip through. I know the point, I've almost been there, the point when I'm so hungry I can't feel it, the point of numbness, of suspension, the window of time when it's okay to say yes, to let go, to fly. That's the point I work toward, my own personal hunger point; a point when I feel everything and nothing at all. When all it takes is one more step and I'll be safe.”
― Jillian Medoff, Hunger Point

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“Instead here he was hiding in the bathroom, making busywork for himself as a few yards away, one of his dearest friends sat alone on a disgusting sofa, making the slow, sad journey back to consciousness, back to the land of the living, without anyone at all by his side.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

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“And yet, he reminds himself, loneliness is not hunger, or deprivation, or illness: it is not fatal. Its eradication is not owed him.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

tags: loneliness-death-breathe

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“And who are you?" he asks, looking at the man who is holding him, who is describing someone he doesn't recognize, someone who seems to have so much, someone who seems like such an enviable, beloved person. "Who are you?"
The man has an answer to this question as well.
"I am Willem Ragnarsson," he says. "And I will never let you go.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

tags: love

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“He was no good for them, anyway; he was only an extravagant collection of problems, nothing more. Unless he stopped himself, he would consume them with his needs. He would take and take and take from them until he had chewed away their every bit of flesh; they could answer every difficulty he posed to them and he would still find new ways to destroy them. For a while, they would mourn him, because they were good people, the best, and he was sorry for that—but eventually they would see that their lives were better without him in it. They would see how much time he had stolen from them; they would understand what a thief he had been, how he had suckled away all their energy and attention, how he had exsanguinated them. He hoped they would forgive him; he hoped they would see that this was his apology to them. He was releasing them—he loved them most of all, and this was what you did for people you loved: you gave them their freedom.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

tags: suicide

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