I Don't Have A Bullet In My

I Read Somewhere, One, That Crying Defies Scientific Explanation. Tears Are Only Meant To Lubricate The Eyes. There Is No Real Reason For Tear Glands To Overproduce Tears At The Behest Of Emotion. I Think We Cry To Release The Animal Parts Of Us Without Losing Our Humanity. Because Inside Of Me Is A Beast That Snarls, And Growls, And Strains Toward Freedom, Toward Tobias, And, Above All, Towards Life. And As Hard As I Try, I Cannot Kill It.

It's Strange How Time Can Make A Place Shrink, Make Its Strangeness Ordinary.

Since I Was Young, I Have Always Known This: Life Damages Us, Every One. We Can’t Escape That Damage. But Now, I Am Also Learning This: We Can Be Mended. We Mend Each Other.

I'll Have To Keep Looking For More Of Them, More Brief Moments Of Freedom In A World That Refuses To Allow It.

Who Is He When He Isn't Dauntless, Isn't An Instructor, Isn't Four, Isn't Anything In Particular? Whoever He Is, I Like Him. It's Easier To Admit That To Myself Now, In The Dark, After All That Just Happened. He Is Not Sweet Or Gentle Or Particularly Kind. But He Is Smart And Brave, And Even Though He Saved Me, He Treated Me Like I Was Strong. That Is All I Need To Know.