“I can’t live this lie anymore, be stuck in this - this circle we’ve created. I want you. I want all of you: your kisses and your smiles and your fucked up thoughts and the messes you make and the lies you tell. I want that fucking look on your face right now, the one of you trying to look for a quick escape, that fucking look that I hate. I want it too. All of it.” “All of it,” he repeats with an empty laugh. “Because you think you love me.” I stare. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” “It means that - it means that you, and - and me, that - I mean that. Fuck. Fuck, I don’t know!” he snaps angrily, rubbing his face with one hand. He lets out a deep sigh, shoulders slumping. “I can’t give you all of me. That’s the one thing I can’t give.” “To me?” I ask, the wounds deepening each second. Why not me? Why? “Or to anyone?”
Ryan Ross and Brendon Urie. The Heart Rate of a Mouse Vol. 2: Wolves vs. Hearts [Book II, Chapter VIII] (via lonely-m0onlight)
