No Factions? A World In Which No

I Feel The Urge, Familiar Now, To Wrench Myself From My Body And Speak Directly Into Her Mind. It Is The Same Urge, I Realize, That Makes Me Want To Kiss Her Every Time I See Her, Because Even A Sliver Of Distance Between Us Is Infuriating. Our Fingers, Loosely Woven A Moment Ago, Now Clutch Together, Her Palm Tacky With Moisture, Mine Rough In Places Where I Have Grabbed Too Many Handles On Too Many Moving Trains. Now She Looks Pale And Small, But Her Eyes Make Me Think Of Wide-open Skies That I Have Never Actually Seen, Only Dreamed Of.

To Me, When Someone Wrongs You, You Both Share The Burden Of That Wrongdoing—the Pain Of It Weighs On Both Of You. Forgiveness, Then, Means Choosing To Bear The Full Weight All By Yourself.

It Seems Like The Rebellions Never Stop, In The City, In The Compound, Anywhere. There Are Just Breaths Between Them, And Foolishly, We Call Those Breaths “peace".

She Taught Me All About Real Sacrifice. That It Should Be Done From Love, Not Misplace Disgust For Another Person's Genetics.

Sometimes It Isn't Fighting That's Brave, Its Facing The Death You Know Is Coming.