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“Most of the time death just comes whether you’ve said good-bye or not.”
I want to have some kind of reminder that while wounds heal, they don’t disappear forever—I carry them everywhere, always, and that is the way of things, the way of scars.
My eyes are blurry with half a dozen different kinds of pain. I didn’t know it came in so many varieties, like flavors, acid and fire and ache and sting.
This is how the Dauntless mourn: by chasing grief into the oblivion of alcohol and leaving it there.

