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Death is easy, and sudden, and can’t be stopped.
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This is... mating, it's not love.
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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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Amy looks up at me, her eyes melting jade.
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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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Emotion courses through my veins, choking me. I feel so insignificant, a tiny speck surrounded by a million stars. A million suns.
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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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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 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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...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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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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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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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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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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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 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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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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If I can only see him in madness, is it worth trying to hold onto sanity?
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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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I hug my knees, burying my face in my arms. This room feels very large, and I feel very small.
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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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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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Dreams are like that: they go in and out of memories and scenes, but they're never real. They're never real, and I hate them because they aren't.
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You could drop me anywhere in the universe, blindfolded, and I'd know this was his room just from the smell.