The beauty of dystopia is that it lets us vicariously experience future worlds - but we still have the power to change our own.

I'm just a butterfly, a mourning cloak, sealed inside a cocoon with blnd eyes and stiky wings. And suddenly I wonder if the cocoons sometimes do not open, if the butterfly inside is ever simply not strong enough to break through.

Caring about anyone leaves you vulnerable.

We can either try to change everything or just make the most of whatever time we have.

And it is strange that absence can feel like presence.

I want to reach out and grab his hand and hold it to me, right over my heart, right where it aches the most. I don't know if doing that would heal me or make my heart break entirely, but either way this constant hungry waiting would be over.

Some things are created to be together.