You Are Holding A Loaded Gun, You

I Can't Tell Him I Need Him. I Can't Need Him, Period -- Or Really, We Can't Need Each Other, Because Who Knows How Long Either Of Us Will Last In This War?

So Now We All Know," Says Four, Quietly, "that You Are Afraid Of A Short, Skinny Girl From Abnegation." His Mouth Curls Into A Smile.

Maybe It's A Little Depressing To Think That My Vision Of A Perfect World Is Actually So Messed Up, But I Think It Means That I Don't Really Understand What 'perfect' Is.

I Can’t Leave Now. I Like Her Too Much. There, I Said It. But I Won’t Say It Again.

I Started Writing Because I Decided I Was Too Old To Play Pretend In The Backyard. Then I Found That I Could Create Those Imaginary Worlds On The Page.