Anonymous, page 195 & 196

Silence.
Peace.
And for a moment, I actually believe that none of this is real. For a moment, I wish none of this is real.
Not the case. Not this place. Not this world. Not this life. Nothing but four teenagers. Us against the world. We should not be battling serial killers. We should be battling high school and crushes and our boring teacher, Mr. Clauve. We should be having outbursts of anger and sadness and unintentionally hurting our parents’ feelings. We should want to be taller and more mature, grow up faster, faster, faster, until we regret rushing it.
We should blend in with the rest of this dying earth, but continue to be humble and give and give and give and fail to be noticed.
We should be honest, loyal, passionate and loved.
We should help the people who need it most, and maybe it wouldn't be enough, but at least we would be trying to make a difference.
We are trying to choose the tunnel we want to explore.
We are trying to be us.
And that is enough.