I'm suddenly finding it hard to know the difference between nightmares and consciousness.

I miss something I never even had.

I've loved you since the day I stole the atlas for you," Gabriel says, because he thinks I'm asleep.

Because even if the lie is beautiful, the truth is what you face in the end.

I wish I had a memory of that first violent shove, the shock of cold air, the sting of oxygen into new lungs. Everyone should remember being born. It doesn't seem fair that we only remember dying.

A strange thing, words. Once they're said, it's hard to imagine they're untrue.