Be Brave, Beatrice. I Love You.

Writing Means Not Just Staring Ugliness In The Face, But Finding A Way To Embrace It.

I Don't See Any Elderly People In The Crowd. Are There Any Old Dauntless? Do They Not Last That Long, Or Are They Just Sent Away When They Can't Jump Off Moving Trains Anymore?

No Need To Continually Insist Upon Your Unshakable Masculinity.

But That Wasn´t The First Time I Ever Saw Her. I Saw Her In The Hallways At School, And At My Mother’s False Funeral, And Walking The Sidewalks In The Abnegation Sector. I Saw Her, But I Didn’t See Her; No One Saw Her The Way She Truly Was Until She Jumped. I Suppose A Fire That Burns That Bright Is Not Meant To Last.

In The Days That Follow, It's Movement, Not Stillness, That Helps To Keep The Grief At Bay.