I don't have a bullet in my head, do I? So I'm fine.

Looking at her is like waking up.

We both have war inside us. Sometimes it keeps us alive. Sometimes it threatens to destroy us.

I wake wondering how I did not notice, every day I sat across from her at the breakfast table, that she was full to bursting with Dauntless energy. Was it because she hid it well? Or was it because I wasn't looking?

The cruelty of fate is that I must travel with the people I hate when the people I love are dead behind me.

I ignore my fear. When I make decisions, I pretend it doesn't exist.

I know some things--I know that I'm not alone, that I have friends, that I'm in love. I know that I don't want to die, and for me that's something--more than I could have said a few weeks ago.