They Wish They Were Us

Sometimes it's hard to know which qualities really define you, and which ones have been affixed to you by others so many times that you actually begin to believe them and claim them as your own.

It’s easy to convince yourself of something if you just pretend it’s the truth.

Why did the boys have the power? Why did they make the rules while we dealt with the consequences?

They say only the good die young, but that’s just a line in a stupid song we used to sing. It isn’t real. It isn’t true. I know that because Shaila Arnold was so many things—brilliant and funny, confident and wild. But honestly? She wasn’t all that good.

How can something so violent be my home.

It's fucked," I said, though I wasn't sure what I was talking about- Shaila's death, Adams imminent departure or the idea that we're supposed to live and die all in the same life. Doesn't that seem like too much to bear?

You're just like me", she said softly in a maternal voice. "Scared. Young". My stomach sank. Those didn't sound like good things. "You'll survive, though", she continued. "We're the strong ones".

They wish they were us.

sticking to the status quo.

What do we do now?" I asked, trying to silence the screams in my head. "We go on" Adam said. "We keep going". I nodded but I did not ask my next question. How?

someone else I know is guilty.

Their conversation continued as they debated the merits of Mario’s and Luigi’s, the two competing slice spots in town.

It's Fucked, having to live and die in lifetime.