Why Do People Want To Pretend That

I Feel Like Someone Breathed New Air Into My Lungs. I Am Not Abnegation. I Am Not Dauntless. I Am Divergent.

He Holds My Face In Both Hands And Kisses Me Back. I Press Into The Distance Between Us Until It Is Gone, Crushing The Secrets We Have Kept And The Suspicions We Have Harbored-for Good, I Hope.

I Tell Myself, As Sternly As Possible, That Is How Things Work Here. We Do Dangerous Things And People Die. People Die, And We Move On To The Next Dangerous Thing. The Sooner That Lesson Sinks In, The Better Chance I Have At Surviving Initiation.

I Am Afraid Of Her, Afraid Of What She Says-and Thrilled By It Too, Because It Means I Don't Have To Accept That I Am Smaller Than I Once Believed.

I Forgot My Watch. Minutes Or Hours Later, When The Panic Subsides, That Is What I Most Regret. Not Coming Here In The First Place - That Seemed Like An Obvious Choice - But My Bare Wrist, Which Makes It Impossible For Me To Know How Long I Have Been Sitting In This Room. My Back Aches, Which Is Some Indication, But It Is Not Definite Enough.