lois-lane

My heart pounded annoyingly in my ears, and it was getting harder to stay focused. I'd almost gotten trapped in here, and now I'd come back. Sometimes I did have truly terrible ideas.

This was the first time I had not just rushed in and followed my instincts, and it wasn't working out. I was beginning to actively regret it.

I imagined it was far better to be optimistic, to proceed assuming wherever you could that you had cared enough, that you'd made a difference, that you would again. Dwelling on the worst was no way to live.

I was not born to wait.

Someone else deciding what was too dangerous for me to be involved in or pursue had never stopped me yet.

Having friends was weird . . . but in a good way.