Business clarity for chaotic creators.

I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have left like a thief in the night, but I couldn’t do it. I needed them to know I was going.

I didn’t understand the Third. It wasn’t like the Outer Rings at all. There were big buildings, loud noises, and everybody seemed angry.

Turn around! There’s still time! Just turn AROUND! The words ran through my head over and over again as I stood in the monumental line to get into the Center.

People are so ridiculous and easily impressed. All I did was stand close to Earth for a minute.

Violet was nice. I had liked her. She has such kind eyes, I thought—no, she had nice eyes.

There is no oppressor without an oppressed. That quote came from a book I read in elementary school called The Tail of Guhman the Mouse.

I made it back to my room just as the guards returned to duty. Very quietly I slipped into bed and shut my eyes, trying to get my heart to stop thumping in my chest.

Gone was the crooked smile on the Constable’s face, replaced instead by a deep, dark scowl. And screaming. My god, the screaming.

The red, blinking light above the camera turned off. A woman next to the camera dropped her cue cards as two brutish men lowered their guns on either side of me.

When they saw I was basically a human pincushion, they dragged Cam out of the car and beat her within an inch of her life.

What I just did was suicide. But it was not the first time I’d committed suicide since I’d left home, and I was still alive.

I have never been suicidal. Sure, I’ve had dark thoughts in my life, but who hasn’t? They were never more than just a passing thought that swooped into my mind and left as quickly as they came.

The woman manipulated and obfuscated, but she did not lie. I liked that about her.

I’d wanted to be seen as a good girl ever since I was a child, and good girls went to church. At least, that’s what my mother said.

I couldn’t stop staring at the flier all the way home. Tracy kept talking to me, but I was lost in my own world.

The party was packed with punks and stoners. The musk of weed plumed toward us as we squeezed through two stoned metal heads at the entrance to the living room, which was filled with too much smoke an

I hadn’t been on a date since eighth grade, and even then, it wasn’t much of a date.

There was a time when Tracy and I hung out together every single day. Sometimes we hung out so long that it bled into the next day, and sometimes that day turned into a whole weekend.

An interesting phenomenon occurred once everyone thought I was crazy. They started questioning every word I’d ever said.

I spent the weekend trying to cram a thousand workouts into two days. It’s impossible to do two months’ worth of working out in a weekend, but I tried anyway.

We were in a good mood as we walked down the hall and stepped onto the elevator, following the directions the nurse had given us. Once we reached the third floor, though, that all changed.

Basketball practice was hard when you were too tired to keep your eyes open. I got hit in the head at least three times every afternoon for the rest of the week, but that wasn’t the worst part.

Paintings of the Void hung all around Doctor Thatcher’s office. They were on every wall in her waiting room, and her therapy room. I didn’t know if it was elegant or macabre to hang a symbol of death

Rebecca never thought she was suicidal. However, that didn’t stop her from jerking her car off the side of the road last night.