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Why wouldn’t it be the government? It’s not like we have a perfectly operational terrorist group right here to do it.
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I quit thinking.
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And I try to remember if this happened before, because this is a memory I would want to keep. But there is no echo of it in my mind.
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But death doesn't work like that. It doesn't care if someone loves you, doesn't want you to go. It just takes. It takes and it takes until eventually you have nothing left.
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Family is never really gone.
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I realize the simple truth is that power isn’t control at all- power is strength, and giving that strength to others. A leader isn’t someone who forces others to make him stronger; a leader is someone willing to give his strength to others so that they may have the strength to stand on their own.
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I will never, never be the same. I have seen stars. Real stars.
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The three hardest parts of writing a novel are writing the beginning, the middle, and the end.
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I have never desired anything more than him in this moment.
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This is what I'm king of: a whirling mass of humans who either hate me or ignore me.
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When you wake up, your face will be dry. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t cry.
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Don't you see? Those monsters you've been so worried about. Not aliens. People. The monsters have always been people.
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Remember that time I punched you in front of my father’s grave?” I ask in a sentimental voice.
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When I get to my room, the first thing I do is punch the button that operates the blind over the window. The room dims. Good. I want darkness.
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Be fearless. Write what you want. Write how you want. Create art.
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We fall into each other. All the other voices in my head--the fear, the doubt, the worry--are drowned out. I die at the end of each kiss and am brought gasping back to life at the beginning of the next. I close my eyes and the entire world fades away.
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Maybe I'm reading too much into this. It's probably nothing. But I've had "nothing" for too long, and I'm ready for something. Anything.
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I shut my eyes, and I force myself to feel myself. You never really think of what it’s like to be in your body, but even with my eyes shut, I can feel the boundaries of my skin, real or not. Everything that’s me is contained inside this body, and I feel it all. The heartbeat I cannot control. The mind that may not be mine. I am here, in this moment, in this body. All that I am—maybe not all that I ever was, but all that I currently am—is right here.
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And it is everything I have longed for, and everything that breaks my heart.
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I think his chutz is up, don't you?
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I think death is easier than guilt sometimes.
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I feel hollow inside, as if there’s a black hole where my heart was, as if I am caving in around myself.
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But Harley has always been this way, for as long as I've known him: he thinks ignorance is the best way to protect someone, and he doesn't understand that what we imagine is often worse than the truth.
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I'd rather have answers than weapons.