I Am Fed Up. I Am Fed

And Is It Selfish Of Me To Crave Victory, Or Is It Brave?

I Catch Myself Thinking 'thank God For This' Out Of Habit, And Then I Understand What He's So Concerned About. What If My Parents' God, Their Whole Belief System, Is Just Something Concocted By A Bunch Of Scientists To Keep Us Under Control? And Not Just Their Beliefs About God And Whatever Else Is Out There, About Right And Wrong, About Selfishness?

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.

I Touch Her Cheek To Slow The Kiss Down, Holding Her Mouth On Mine So I Can Feel Every Place Where Our Lips Touch And Every Place Where They Pull Away. I Savor The Air We Share In The Second Afterwards And The Slip Of Her Nose Across Mine. I Think Of Something To Say, But It Is Too Intimate, So I Swallow It. A Moment Later I Decide I Don't Care. "i Wish We Were Alone," I Say As I Back Out Of The Cell. She Smiles. "i Almost Always Wish That.

You Need To Be Passionate About The Creative Work That You're Doing, But You Need To Be Kind Of Emotionally Separated From How People React To It Or How It Does. Those Things Should Be Secondary, And Primary Should Be Your Love Of The Creative Act.