Knowledge does have a way of making you an outcast.

Maybe I’m a masochist, but watching them together would hurt, sting with jealousy and betrayal. Hurt would be something, at least, some feeling to break up the dead, dull sensation I’ve been filled with for days now.

I turn back to them, trying to maintain control of my emotions, trying to keep the two of them from seeing that I’m shaking in sorrow and anger and hurt.

And I am more alone than ever before.

It’s hard to believe sometime, but hope never lets you truly stop believing. – Lo.

I hesitate, then put my other hand on top of his. We’re partners. Always have been, even when I hate him, when he’s a thousand miles away, when he loves my sister... even when it’d be easier to go it alone for good.

I like libraries. It’s a comfort that knowledge can be save for so long. That what we learn can be passed on.

Would I trade that in, give it away for the hunt? I stumble down the stairs of a subway. No. I couldn’t trade it in again. Not now that I know what it is to be loved. Not now that I’ve stepped out of the cave and into the sun.

I follow, always, because its the only time when our hearts beat in perfect harmony, the only time when Im certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we are one person broken in two.

It’s just that it’s impossible to be a broken or whole person. You can only be a person. You can only exist, you can only belong to yourself, and you can only be responsible for your own happiness or belonging or whatever. That broken-part-piece-whole thing is just a trick of the mortal mind.