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.
Every minute you spend with someone gives them a part of your life and takes part of theirs.
Ky can play this game. He can play all of their games, including the one in front of him that he just lost. He knows exactly how to play, and that’s why he loses every time.
I came up on the screen, too, Cassia. But he was the one you chose to see.
Our time together feels like a storm, like a wild wind and rain, like something too big to handle but too powerful to escape.
His lips move silently, and I know what he says: the words of a poem that only two people in the world know.
No one should die alone.
If you let hope inside, it takes you over. It feeds on your insides and uses your bones to climb and grow. Eventually it becomes the thing that is your bones, that holds you together. Holds you up until you don’t know how to live without it anymore. To pull it out of you would kill you entirely.
What is it about your voice that makes me want to hear you speak?
It’s all right to wonder.
I wish I could have one without the other, but that’s the problem with being alive. You don’t usually get to choose the measure of suffering or the degree of joy you have.
There’s a reason they didn’t keep this poem. This poem tells you to fight.