He who leaps for the sky may fall, it's true. But he may also fly.

The Story of Solomon is the only way I know how to explain. And then, in smaller letters: Forgive me.

For the first time in my life I actually feel sorry for Carol. I'm only seventeen years old, and I already know something she doesn't know: I know that life isn't life if you just float through it. I know that the whole point- the only point- is to find things that matter, and hold on to them, and fight for them, and refuse to let them go.

And when I wake up it's wonderful, like I've been carried quietly onto a calm, peaceful shore, and the dream, and its meaning, has broken over me like a wave and is ebbing away now, leaving me with a single, solid certainty. I know now.

I'm used to a feeling of doubleness, of thinking one thing and having to do another, a constant tug-of-war.

i feel like a curtain has dropped away and i'm seeing people for who they really are, different, and sharp, and unknowable.

The Wilds aren't safe anymore.