They Died For Me,” I Say. That

I Am Wearing A Gray Shirt, Blue Jeans, Black Shoes--new Clothes, But Beneath Them, My Dauntless Tattoos. It Is Impossible To Erase My Choices. Especially These.

How Strange That Something So Simple Could Have Been Instrumental In My Decision To Ruin One Of My Most Relationships And Friendships, And Damage Another.

It Reminds Me That No Embrace Will Ever Feel The Same Again, Because No One Will Ever Be Like Her Again, Because She's Gone. She's Gone, And Crying Feels So Useless, So Stupid, But It's All I Can Do.

I Catch Myself Thinking 'thank God For This' Out Of Habit, And Then I Understand What He's So Concerned About. What If My Parents' God, Their Whole Belief System, Is Just Something Concocted By A Bunch Of Scientists To Keep Us Under Control? And Not Just Their Beliefs About God And Whatever Else Is Out There, About Right And Wrong, About Selfishness?

I Also Wanted To Ask You If We Can Talk To The Erudite You're Keeping Safe Here," I Say. "i Know They're Hidden, But I Need Access To Them." "and What Do You Intend To Do?" She Says. "shoot Them," I Say, Rolling My Eyes. "that Isn't Funny.