I wonder if I will ever have the strength to hold onto something. Or if I will always be someone who destroys.
And as the Society reminds us, there's a difference between knowledge and technology. Knowledge doesn't fail us.
Ky's story, bit by bit, is turning to ash and nothing. Except. He remembers it, and now I do, too.
Growing apart doesn't change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I'm glad for that.
That word, calm, sounds impossibly beautiful, gloriously uncomplicated. A water-smooth word, a word that can take the edge away from fear, gloss it over, make it shiny. Calm. Gentle.
I wouldn't take that tablet Cassia. Not for a report. And perhaps not ever. You are strong enough to go without it.
And I think, If i dared to ever open that paper, this would be the place.
Lightning. Once it has forked, hot-white, from sky to earth, there is no going back
He's in pain. I am, too. It strikes me that perhaps this is part of what we are fighting to choose. Which pain we feel.
That's when I realize that the statistics the Officials give us do not matter to me. I know there are many people who are happy and I am glad for them. But this is Ky. If he is the one person who falls by the wayside while the other ninety-nine are happy and fulfilled, that is not right with me anymore. I realize that I don't care about the Officer pacing below or the other hikers among the trees, or really anything else at all, and that is when I realize how dangerous this truly is.
If I can't pull myself together soon he'll know somethings wrong. We know each other too well.
Are you congratulating me on my life, or on my death?
My fingers smell like soil and my lips taste like sugar and I'm so awake right now I wonder if I'll be able to sleep tonight.
His lips move silently, and I know what he says: the words of a poem that only two people in the world know.
The two of us hold each other's gazes for a long, unembarrassed moment and I feel that Ky knows. I'm not sure what he knows - whether he knows me, or just something about me.
If I couldn't name it, would I even know what it is? Would I even feel it at all?
Because either way, whichever life I build, has to be built on truth.
Neither of us moves for a moment, locked instead in each other's eyes and in the branches of this Hill we might never finish climbing.
How can we appreciate anything fully when overwhelmed with too much?
There's a reason they didn't keep this poem. This poem tells you to fight.
In the absence of real thunder, he's making his own.
Being with Ky, being with Xander -both things feel like standing in the light. Different types of light, but neither feels dark.
None of that is supposed to matter. But somehow, it does.
I am trapped in glass and I want to break out and breath deep but I?m too afraid that it will hurt.
This is the difference between us. I live to sort, he knows how to create.
Is falling in love with someone's story the same thing as falling in love with the person himself?
But I've already broken the glass; I've given the green away; I've made my choice.
Only when I hold onto nothing can I be the best, only then can I be what they expect me to be.
I came up on the screen, too, Cassia. But he was the one you chose to see.
Water's always moving. It's never the same.
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