When we read dystopia, we root for these people to break free because we are these people; hoping and fighting against things that are bigger than ourselves.

In the end you can't always choose what to keep. You can only choose how you let it go.

I realize now how much courage it takes to choose the life you want, whatever that might be.

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.

Because I feel no anger toward my mother. Only loss, and loss is a feeling you can’t fight your way out of as easily.

Growing apart doesn't change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I'm glad for that.

Forgetting lets you live without the pain for a moment but remembering hits hard.