I Think You're Still The Only Person

You Want Him To Walk?" Caleb Demands. "are You Insane?" "did I Shoot Him In The Leg?" I Say. "no. He Walks. Where Do We Go, Peter?

'divergent' Was My Utopian World. I Mean, That Wasn't The Plan. I Never Even Set Out To Write Dystopian Fiction, That's Just What I Had When I Was Finished. At The Beginning, I Was Just Writing About A Place I Found Interesting And A Character With A Compelling Story, And As I Began To Build The World, I Realized That It Was My Utopia.

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.

I Watch Her Blond Head Until It Disappears Around The Bend, And I Feel Bare, Like There's Nothing Left To Protect Me Against Pain. Her Absence Stings Worst Of All.

Yesterday He Told Me He Thought I Would Have To Pretend To Be Weak, But He Was Wrong. I Am Weak Already. I Brace Myself Against The Wall And Press My Forehead To My Hands. It’s Difficult To Take Deep Breaths, So I Take Short, Shallow Ones. I Can’t Let This Happen. They Attacked Me To Make Me Feel Weak. I Can Pretend They Succeeded To Protect Myself, But I Can’t Let It Become True.