If You Are Really One Of Us,

Since I Was Young, I Have Always Known This: Life Damages Us, Every One. We Can’t Escape That Damage. But Now, I Am Also Learning This: We Can Be Mended. We Mend Each Other.

My Problem Might Be That Even If I Did Go Home, I Wouldn’t Belong There, Among People Who Give Without Thinking And Care Without Trying.

Maybe Forgiveness Is Just The Continual Pushing Aside Of Bitter Memories, Until Time Dulls The Hurt And Anger, And The Wrong Is Forgotten.

No. Because It's So Stupid No Dauntless With Any Sense Would Speak It, Let Alone Think It. Pansycake. What Are You, Twelve?" "and A Half," He Says.

He Leans His Face Close To Mine And Wraps His Fingers Around My Chin. His Hand Smells Like Metal. When Was The Last Time He Held A Gun, Or A Knife?