The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, who never yawn or say a common thing but burn, burn, burn, like a fabulous yellow roman candle, exploding like spiders across stars.
I learned not to trust people; I learned not to believe what they say but to watch what they do; I learned to suspect that anyone and everyone is capable of ‘living a lie’. I came to believe that other people - even when you think you know them well - are ultimately unknowable.
I decided on you, don’t you get that? I decided on you. I don’t want to go fucking other people and then walk around feeling thrilled and then sad, or empty, or whatever. I like the smell of your hair, and I like the sound of your voice, and I fucking decided on you.