Maybe this is the secret to talking to boys--maybe you just have to be angry all the time.

Chance. Stupid, dumb, blind chance. Just a part of the strange mechanism of the world, with its fits and coughs and starts and random collisions.

Things change after you die, though, I guess because dying is the loneliest thing you can do.

We'll walk together holding hands, and kiss in broad daylight, and love each other as much as we want to, and no one will ever try to keep up apart.

There is only what you want and what happens. There is only grabbing on and holding tight in the darkness.

Dystopian novels help people process their fears about what the future might look like; further, they usually show that there is always hope, even in the bleakest future.

Lindsay calls them the Pugs: pretty from far away, ugly up close.