I Don't Have A Bullet In My

When You're A Writer, You Hear Your Internal Critic, And That's Really Hard To Get Over. And Then Sometimes You Hear Critiques From Classmates And Stuff. But When A Book Comes Out, It's Just Hundreds Of Opinions And You Have To Learn To Separate Out The Ones You Want To Listen To Or Figure Out Many You Want To Listen To.

His Fingers Slide Into My Hair, And I Hold On To His Arms To Stay Steady As We Press Together Like Two Blades At A Stalemate. He Is Stronger Than Anyone I Know, And Warmer Than Anyone Else Realizes; He Is A Secret That I Have Kept, And Will Keep For The Rest Of My Life.

It Must Be Because You're So Approachable", I Say Flatly. "you Know, Like A Bed Of Nails." He Stares At Me, And I Don't Look Away. He Isn't A Dog But The Same Rules Apply. Looking Away Is Submissive. Looking Him In The Eye Is A Challenge. It's My Choice. Heat Rushes Into My Cheeks. What Will Happen When This Tension Breaks? But He Just Says, "careful, Tris.

It Doesn't Prove Anything Except That You're Bullying Us. Which, As I Recall, Is A Sign Of Cowardice.

The Truth Is... You Are Hurting Me. Not On Purpose, I Know That. But I Love You And Every Second That You Don´t Love Me Back...it Hurts.