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For a moment, he looks back at me, and his farewell is in his smile. Then he turns to the stars. And he is gone.
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Be fearless. Write what you want. Write how you want. Create art.
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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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I saw Death itself. It was a feral thing, made of smoke and shadow. It was hollow and empty. And hungry. Starving.
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I had nothing to prove and everything to lose. But it didn’t take love to sacrifice something of yourself for someone else. It just took desperation.
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And it is everything I have longed for, and everything that breaks my heart.
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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 never thought about how important the sky was until I didn't have one.
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Who are the real monsters?
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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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I can think of no better way to meet a girl than to see her through the eyes of the story she loves best.
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Well, sometimes home is a person.
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I have never desired anything more than him in this moment.
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You never know. Something small and broken really can be powerful.
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I cannot imagine a more perfect hell than being trapped inside my own mind.
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I just wish I could see myself in me.
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The glitter in the sky looks as if I could scoop it all up in my hands and let the stars swirl and touch one another but they are so distant so very far apart that they cannot feel the warmth of each other even though they are made of burning.
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I can get closer.
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There’s a war going on, that much is clear. And I’m no longer sure I’m on the right side.
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What matters right now is this: we're each of us standing here, together, alive, together.
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I have the whole world now, but I don't have him.
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I will do anything to make her happy again, so I give her the stars.
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We’re so close we could touch. All it would take is for me to reach out my hand. But neither of us makes a move.
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It wasn't that he called me a freak. It was the way he said it. Like he really meant it. Like he believed it.