I had a dream about you. We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want.

I was a deeply damaged person and I couldn’t stand for people to see my eyes and I wore aviator shades for nine months. I had, like, intimate relationships with people who never saw my eyes. Most of them are dead now.

It’s so lonely here. (Her face hardens into bitter self contempt.) You’re lying to yourself again. You wanted to get rid of them. Their contempt & disgust aren’t pleasant company. You’re glad they’re gone. (A little despairing laugh.) Then Mother of God, why do I feel so lonely?

Of course I don’t wanna feel better! (laugh) Can you fucking imagine?

sorry. msorry.

But I still love you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I love you – I didn’t mean to say what I said.

For my prayer has always been love – what did I do to deserve this?

I broke what you gave me But you kept giving More And I'm sorry for taking But I keep wanting More, more, more

I realized how sad it was that I’d bet so low. That I wouldn’t even let myself imagine receiving as much as I’d hoped for.

You don’t know a thing about my sins, how the misery begins, you don’t know, so I’m burning! I’m burning!

I hate you, you stupid tears. I mean, come on: seven years? You'd think I'd be blind by now.

I don’t know that the Greeks weren’t right. I think they were – that love can eat a path through everything – that it will destroy a lot of things on the way to its own objective, which is just its expression of itself.

How long can you keep wanting something and not asking for it?

I want it to hurt. Because that means it meant something.

When we killed what we were to become what we are, what did we do with the bodies? We did what most people do; buried them under the floorboards and got used to the smell. I’ve lived my life like a serial killer; finish with one part, strangle it and move on to the next.

I am always furious with myself, but the times my self-hatred reaches its zenith are the days in which I am a desperate wispy thing, feverishly seeking validation from everyone around me.

I don’t need to be appeased with scraps of your affection every time you feel sorry for the deviant you befriended by mistake. Be my friend, or don’t. But don’t pretend you’re something you’re not. And don’t you dare pity me.

I will love you as a dagger loves a certain person’s back, and as a certain person loves to wear dagger proof tunics.

I will do whatever you tell me to do… Love me, please; I love you. I can bear to be your friend. So ask of me anything… But never be “tolerant,” or “kind.”

Kill what you can’t save what you can’t eat throw out what you can’t throw out bury What you can’t bury give away what you can’t give away you must carry with you, it is always heavier than you thought.