I wrote this for you.

"We should sing a duet"

There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable… I simply am not there.

imsirius:

“[Lucien] liked him, always has, and was amused, entertained; they wrote poems together, manifestoes of the ‘New Vision’, rushed around with books, had bull sessions in [Lucien]’s Dalton Hall room where he hardly ever slept”  - Jack Kerouac, “Vanity of Duluoz”