They Both Die at the End

by Adam Silvera

I was raised to be honest, but the truth can be complicated. It doesn’t matter if the truth won’t make a mess, sometimes the words don’t come out until you’re alone. Even that’s not guaranteed. Sometimes the truth is a secret you’re keeping from yourself because living a lie is easier.

I kiss the guy who brought me to life on the day we’re going to die.

Entire lives aren’t lessons, but there are lessons in lives.

“People have their time stamps on how long you should know someone before earning the right to say it, but I wouldn’t lie to you no matter how little time we have. People waste time and wait for the right moment and we don’t have that luxury. If we had our entire lives ahead of us I bet you’d get tired of me telling you how much I love you because I’m positive that’s the path we were heading on. But because we’re about to die, I want to say it as many times as I want—I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

We all die at the end. Every single one of us. But once again, how we die, or the fact that we die isn’t the point at all. I can’t spoil the answer for this next question, but I hope it’s one we keep on our minds daily: How did we live?