I used to think about giving my life up for things, but I didn't understand what 'giving your life' really was until it was right there, about to be taken from me

In some parts of the ancient world, the hawk symbolized the sun. Back when I got this, I figured if I always had the sun on me, I wouldn't be afraid of the dark

I forgot my watch. Minutes or hours later, when the panic subsides, that is what I most regret. Not coming here in the first place - that seemed like an obvious choice - but my bare wrist, which makes it impossible for me to know how long I have been sitting in this room. My back aches, which is some indication, but it is not definite enough.

I'm sick of doing bad things and liking it and then wondering what's wrong with me. I want it to be over. I want to start again.

I feel like myself, strong and weak at once - allowed, at least for a little while, to be both.

His hand touches my waist, steadies me. The touch sends a shock through my body, and all my insides burn like his fingers ignited them. I pull close to him, pressing my body against his, and lift my head to kiss him.

And is it selfish of me to crave victory, or is it brave?