Some people are uncomfortable with silences. Not me. I’ve never cared much for call and response. Sometimes I will think of something to say and then I ask myself: is it worth it? And it just isn’t.
— Miranda July (via exquisittte)
…in that moment, as he saw and smelled how irresistible its effect was and how with lightning speed it spread and made captives of the people all around him—in that moment his whole disgust for humankind rose up again within him and completely soured his triumph, so that he felt not only no joy, but not even the least bit of satisfaction. What he had always longed for—that other people should love him—became at the moment of his achievement unbearable, because he did not love them himself, he hated them. And suddenly he knew that he had never found gratification in love, but always only in hatred—in hating and in being hated.
— Patrick Süskind, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer (via ikikahsatan)
He finally saw that for his whole lifetime he was a nobody for everyone. What he felt now was fear. Fear of really being nobody, the fear of not existing.
— The Perfume (via chillemotion)
