Did You Just Call Me Beatrice?

I Have Realized That Part Of Being Dauntless Is Being Willing To Make Things More Difficult For Yourself In Order To Be Self-sufficient. There's Nothing Especially Brave About Wandering Dark Streets With No Flashlight, But We Are Not Supposed To Need Help, Even From Light. We Are Supposed To Be Capable Of Anything. I Like That. Because Their Might Come A Day When There Is No Flashlight, There Is No Gun, There Is No Guiding Hand. And I Want To Be Ready.

Then I Realize What It Is. It's Him. Something About Him Makes Me Feel Like I Am About To Fall. Or Turn To Liquid. Or Burst Into Flames.

I Have Never Been Carried Around By A Large Boy, Or Laughed Until My Stomach Hurt At The Dinner Table, Or Listened To The Clamor Of A Hundred People All Talking At Once. Peace Is Restrained; This Is Free.

Instead I Just Let The Silence Stretch Out Between Us. It's The Only Adequate Response To What He Just Told Me, The Only That Does The Tragedy Any Justice Instead Of Patching It Hastily And Moving On.

Looking At Her Is Like Waking Up.