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We all die someday. Maybe the only thing that makes that fact bearable is the idea that death is the only way we can return to the stars.
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There are countless reasons to be jealous. But that doesn’t mean you have to succumb to them.
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All of them?” I ask. I could almost understand her need to awaken her parents, but we don’t need to add nearly a hundred frozen people to the cacophony of voices around us.
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Our masterpieces are Shakespeare and Jane Austen and griots and Murasaki Shikibu, but they’re also J.K. Rowling and Chuck Palahnuik and Douglas Adams and Amy Tan and Suzanne Collins and Chinua Achebe. Read. Read them all. Read the books you love, and try to read books you don’t. Read the genres you love, but sometimes also read a book outside your comfort zone. Read voraciously.
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We're the ones who arent normal. People are supposed to be like that: obedient, calm, working together. It's us-who can't focus, who can't work together, who can't do the Feeder or Shipper jobs-we're the ones who aren't normal. We're the ones who have to take the mental meds just so we don't go loons.
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I click on the deaths and read the names carefully, memorising them. Because here’s the simple truth—if I hadn’t taken the ship off Phydus, people like ***** and ******* would still be alive. And while I could say that a shorter life with feelings is better than a longer life without, the dead can’t tell me their side.
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We wanted to protect some planets that the Empire wanted to destroy. Not outright, not even the Empire’s that evil.
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I learned that life is so, so fragile. I learned that you can know someone for just days and never forget the impression he left on you. I learned that art can be beautiful and sad at the same time. I learned that if someone loves you, he'll wait for you to love him back. I learned that how much you want something doesn't determine whether you get it or not, that "no" might not be enough, that life isn't fair, that my parents can't save me, that maybe no one can.
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Before, if I thought Christmas, I would have remembered my past on Earth and would have succumbed to the aching sadness for a life I can never have again. Now, I can think the word and not feel anything but a dull ache, a phantom pain for a part of my life that’s been amputated.
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If it's a matter of dying here or dying there, I think I'd like to at least see the world first.
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How ironic it would be, to die at his hands while trying to save him, when he first came to me because he was trying to save me.
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God, did they know? A year made the world of difference! This was one more year I could be with Jason, one more year I could live! I signed up for three hundred years. . . not three hundred and one!
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When I finally get out of bed, the only thing I want to do is go straight to Amy and demand her forgiveness. Maybe we can at least go back to what we had before our fight, even if all we had was an awkward friendship punctuated by significant silences.
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Maybe being alone in the sea, with its unexplored depths, its clawing-finger waves, really is safer compared to the land, where there are people and malice and death.
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If I can only see him in madness, is it worth trying to hold onto sanity?
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...that was before I'd started thinking about how life stuck on a ship wouldn't be so bad if Elder walked around pantless more.
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I hug my knees, burying my face in my arms. This room feels very large, and I feel very small.
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The truth is, sometimes siblings have nothing in common but blood...Sometimes you stay up late at night, thinking things that make you feel like a heartless monster, wishing for something different and then feeling sick with guilt because you know what the cost of "different" would be...There's a difference between having no siblings and having a broken one.
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Death is easy, and sudden, and can’t be stopped.
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But i don't care. Because we can say them or not; it doesn't matter. What is in our heats is real whether we name it or let it exist only in darkness and silence.
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I open my mouth. I want o say: I'm breaking, and i need someone to hold me together. But no sound comes out.
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I remember the first time I saw the stars. I thought they changed everything. I thought they changed me, like I'd become a different person just by seeing shining specks of light a million miles away. Now when I stare at them, I feel nothing. I don't believe in them anymore.
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A few months ago, I would have thrown this book down in disgust and walked away—maybe even returned home, where the only books I knew reminded me of my father. But now… My fingers wrapped around the spine of the book. Now I was willing to try anything.
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I can't be the kind of leader you want me to. I will never, ever be the kind of leader you want me to be. And I will be better because of it.