We could have been happy. I know that, and it is perhaps the hardest thing to know.

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.

It is strange how we hold on to the pieces of the past while we wait for our futures.

I can trust in my parents' love. And it strikes me that is a big thing to trust, a big thing to have had, no matter what else happens.

It is one thing to make a choice and it is another thing to never have the chance.

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.

And I laugh at myself for thinking I could touch the sky.