self-injury.net

She looks at me and says, Perhaps you'll escape. Day and night, this obsession. It's not that you have to achieve anything, it's that you have to get away from where you are.

His gentleness was unaffected by his pain. He didn't speak of the pain, never a word about it. Sometimes his face would quiver, he'd close his eyes and clench his teeth. But he never said anything about the images behind his closed eyes. It was as he loved the pain, loved it as he'd loved me, intensely, unto death perhaps, and as if he preferred it now to me.

Very early in my life it was much too late.