I feel used, deliciously so. But not like one might use a thing, only to discard it. I feel precious, something able to bring pleasure, a product of enthusiasm and instructions well carried out. And that, really, is the crux of it. When I’m following commands, my shoulders are bare of any weight. I’m sure there are many reasons people like what I like, but for me—this is it. The quiet. The grind, stopped. Knowing that for a brief moment, someone else has me. No decisions, no responsibilities.

“That’s where it lives, my love for him. In the space between the things he could do, and what the chooses instead.”

“I don’t just love you, Jill. I worship you. I bleed you. I am for you.”

“Somehow, against all odds, against my own fucking idiocy and stubbornness, I had won the love of my precious wife. I tightened my hold on her as her breathing evened out. I would never get enough of this, of her. I craved her every waking moment, my mind even seeking her out in sleep. And I wondered if that was what love felt like.”

“Her gaze locked with mine. Her dark eyes, shadowed and lined with black, were full of loneliness I recognized deep in my soul. It hit me like a punch to my guts. It was the briefest of looks. But it sealed her fate. Through her sad eyes, she promised me that she would understand me. She whispered that I didn't have to be alone. With that single look, she tied me to her.”

Time and care required far more effort, and no one had ever deemed me worthy of those things.

I'm afraid of letting someone in gain. I'm afraid of getting my heart broken. I'm afraid that, If you get to know the real me, you'll find me unlovable like everyone else, and it'll hurt so much more because it's you.

She liked her wine white, her coffee black, and her gin with a splash of tonic. I knew all of these things because, despite her assumption that I paid attention to no one except myself, I couldn't stop noticing her if my life depended on it. Every detail, every moment, all filed and categorized in the Sloane cabinet of my mind.

Tonight, in that alley, my girl had talked with me as if I wasn't a monstrous freak, hiding in the shadows. It was strange. The good kind of strange. For a short while, I actually felt like a person. Something I haven't felt for a long, long time. And then, she let her guard down, falling asleep in my car. With me beside her. Trusting that I wouldn't do anything to harm her while she was in the most vulnerable state was beyond reckless. It shook me to the core.

I always think that when we are quiet, we are agreeing to be harmless to each other. That we are just sharing the same space and letting each other exist exactly as we are, and neither of us would hurt or upset the other one.

Have you ever heard that quote if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it's stupid? I will never judge you for how you climb a tree, Jacob. And you should know that you are an exceptional fish.

Being harmless to each other.

He wasn't just living what was happening. He was living what might happen. Any infinite number of what-ifs, fueled by his anxiety, each one experienced like they were going on simultaneously, eating away at him, terrifying him, tormenting him. And once he started down that path, it was so hard to stop the progression. It was a self-perpetuating cycle of emotional destruction.

I didn't usually watch new shows. I just rewatched the same ones over and over. I like the familiarity, the predictability. If I rewatched a show, there were never any surprises. No emotional jump scares. I didn't have to process new feelings or stress over cliffhangers. I knew where it was going and how it would end.

As I was learning though...sometimes when you found the right girl...to get her...you had to do all the wrong things.

She was fucking staring at me. She raised both hands slowly and flipped me off and I almost passed out on the ice, just from having her attention.

For a moment, we just stare into each other's eyes. It's one of those moments I know will be burned into my mind for the rest of my life. One where I'm completely overwhelmed by my love for this woman. I'm the last person she probably expected to choose to spend the rest of her life with, but I'll thank whatever higher power there may be that despite all odds, we found our way to one another. She's my entire world, and I'll spend every single one of my days making sure she knows how remarkable of a woman she is. She truly is my everything, the love of my life-something I never even believed in until her.