“They say people want to be like who they admire, become the people who've touched their hearts. People also say a lot of things about teenagers. Especially those that write. They’re naive. They’re blind to cruel reality. They’re all dreams and no backbone. You wanna know why? They read. The books they read reach into them and draw pretty pictures on the walls of their hearts. Suddenly every other kid is chasing after these larger-than-life dreams of worlds to be built and stories to be told, naive, blind, dreaming, stupid kids reaching for the stars even though those pinpricks of light are older and farther than you could comprehend.

“What those books never show you is all the wannabes, washed up and jaded. ‘You were so close but so far.’ But all these almosts is all I see, and now I'm afraid to even dream of the stars. It's not like I’ll ever see them, right? The sky is smothered by all the hands reaching toward it.

“I’m afraid to dream, [omitted]."

“Don't be. Won’t do you any good.”

snort. “If only it was so easy.”