I Am Selfish. I Am Brave.

I Take A Deep Breath. I'm Not Sure Where That Swell Of Desperation Came From, But Know That I've Acknowledge It, It's Impossible To Ignore, Like A Living Thing Has Awakened From A Long Sleep Inside Me. It Writhes In My Stomach And Throat. I Need To Leave. I Need The Truth.

You Think Giving You A Hug Would Give Away Too Much?" He Says. "you Know," I Say. "i Really Don't Care." I Stand On My Tiptoes And Press My Lips To His. It Is The Best Moment Of My Life.

It Is Amazing How Pretending To Be In A Different Faction Changes Everything -- Even The Way I Walk. That Must Be Why It's So Strange That I Could Easily Belong In Three Of Them.

Sleep,” He Says. “i'll Fight The Bad Dreams Off If They Come To Get You.” “with What?” “my Bare Hands, Obviously.

When You're A Writer, You Hear Your Internal Critic, And That's Really Hard To Get Over. And Then Sometimes You Hear Critiques From Classmates And Stuff. But When A Book Comes Out, It's Just Hundreds Of Opinions And You Have To Learn To Separate Out The Ones You Want To Listen To Or Figure Out Many You Want To Listen To.