Here's something else you might as well learn now: If you want something, if you take it for your own, you'll always be taking it from someone else. That's a rule too. And something must die so that others can live.

Don't worry about what you're writing or whether it's good or even whether it makes sense.

Sometimes I feel as though there are two me's, one coasting directly on top of the other: the superficial me, who nods when she's supposed to nod and says what she's supposed to say, and some other, deeper part, the part that worries and dreams... Most of the time they move along in sync and I hardly notice the split, but sometimes it feels as though I'm two whole different people and I could rip apart at any second.

In one of the tents, Julian is sleeping. And in another: Alex

My stomach gets that hollowed-out feeling. It's amazing how words can do that, just shred your insides apart.

People are like ants: Just a few of them give all the orders. And most of them spend their lives getting squashed.

It's amazing how close I have been, all this time, to my old life. And yet the distance that divides me from it is vast.