I am real. This”–he put his other hand over the first-“is real. You see me interacting with other people all day long, don’t you? I talk to people; I affect things in the world. I cause things to happen. I am real.”“But-but what if this whole place”-I had to suck in air again-“what if everything is inside my head? East Shoal and Scarlet and this bridge and you-what if you’re not real because nothing is real?”“If nothing’s real, then what does it matter?” he said. “You live here. Doesn’t that make it real enough?
Mile's fingers pressed into the small of my back. "Basorexia," he mumbled."Gesundheit."He laughed. "It's an overwhelming desire to kiss.""I thought you weren't good at figuring out what you felt.""I'm probably using the word in the wrong context. But I'm pretty sure that's what this is.
People say teenagers think they're immortal, and I agree with that. But I think there's a difference between thinking you're immortal and knowing you can survive. Thinking you're immortal leads to arrogance, thinking you deserve the best. Surviving means having the worst thrown at you and being able to continue on despite that. It means striving for what you want most, even when it seems our of your reach, even when everything is working against you.