The Program

...some things are better left in the past. And true things are destined to repeat themselves.

If it's meant to be, you'll find each other again.

You know I'm never going to be able to not kiss you again, right?" he said. "For the rest of my life, every time I look at you, I'll have to kiss you.

I think that sometimes the only real thing is now.

I'm so alone it's like being dead but still conscious.

You're right, you know," he says. "You're just right for me. And I'd bet my life that we've done this before. Because I can't imagine that I wouldn't have fallen in love with you the first time.

I want to be me, and yet I'm not sure who I am.

He's tender and defenseless, as if every part of him is exposed. He's not the asshole I thought he was, not even close. What I see is someone broken and fierce. Someone loyal and hardened. Someone who could belong to me completely, and me to him.

I already know your sister is smarter. She's prettier than me too, but I didn't bet on that. I just wanted you to call her in here so she'd look at me again. It was worth the five bucks.

It's not good to have fears like this. It only makes it more likely that you'll die that way—a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Suicide is a behavioral contagion. It's old adage "If all your friends jumped off a bridge, then would you, too?" Apparently, the answer is yes.

He said that some things are better left in the past. And true things are destined to repeat themselves.

I look back at James one last time, and he gives me his signature smile, wide and cocky. but it's not real. Sometimes I think it's never real. James is the best at hiding his pain, disgusing the feelings. He knows what it takes to stay out of the Program. He'll keep us safe. He promised.

Brady’s a star up there,” he says, “in some distant place where he doesn’t hurt.

So with that thought, I begin again—thinking to myself that sometimes . . . the only real thing is now.

I slowly stand, looking down at my clothes. I wish that there were bloodstains or tears, something to outwardly show how hurt I am.

But when it comes to Michael Realm, I might be a little murderous. But just a little." He pinches his fingers together.

It's not good to have fears like this. It only makes it more likely you'll die that way---a self-fulfilling prophecy.

In the river. With James. Swimming

sometimes . . . the only real thing is now.

THE AIR IN THE ROOM TASTES STERILE. THE LINGERING scent of bleach is mixing with the fresh white paint on the walls, and I wish my teacher would open the window to let in a breeze. But we’re on the third floor so the pane is sealed shut—just in case anyone gets the urge to jump. I

When the deaths first started increasing, there were all sorts of rumors. From defective childhood vaccines to pesticides in our food—people grasped for any excuse.