And Then The Screaming Begins.

One Piece Of Advice I Have Is: Want Something Else More Than Success. Success Is A Lovely Thing, But Your Desire To Say Something, Your Worth, And Your Identity Shouldn’t Rely On It, Because It’s Not Guaranteed And It’s Not Permanent And It’s Not Sufficient. So Work Hard, Fall In Love With The Writing — The Characters, The Story, The Words, The Themes — And Make Sure That You Are Who You Are Regardless Of Your Life Circumstances. That Way, When The Good Things Come, They Don’t Warp You, And When The Bad Things Hit You, You Don’t Fall Apart.

So Now We All Know," Says Four, Quietly, "that You Are Afraid Of A Short, Skinny Girl From Abnegation." His Mouth Curls Into A Smile.

People, I Have Discovered, Are Layers And Layers Of Secrets. You Believe You Know Them, That You Understand Them, But Their Motives Are Always Hidden From You, Buried In Their Own Hearts. You Will Never Know Them, But Sometimes You Decide To Trust Them.

When You're A Teenager, Everything Seems Like The End Of The World, And I Don't Think That's Necessarily A Silly Thing. You're Waking Up And Becoming Aware That The World Has Problems And Those Problems Affect You, Whereas When You're Young They Don't Seem To Affect You That Much Even If You're Aware Of Them. This Dystopian Trend Picks Up On That Little Part Of Your Life Where Everything Feels Really Extreme And It Honors That Part Of Your Life And Says, "yeah. It Is The End Of The World. Look At It."

A Sob Racks My Body Again, And He Wraps His Arms Around Me So Tightly I Find It Difficult To Breathe, But It Doesn't Matter. My Dignified Weeping Gives Way To Full-on Ugliness, My Mouth Open And My Face Contorted And Sounds Like A Dying Animal Coming From My Throat. If This Continues I Will Break Apart, And Maybe That Would Be Better, Maybe It Would Be Better To Shatter And Bear Nothing.