It's possible Mateo not being a daredevil will keep us alive longer, but I'm not banking on it being a memorable End Day. - Adam Silvera

Thank you for everything, Dad. I'll be brave, and I'll be okay. I love you from here to there. Mateo

My dream was turning on me. I wanted to be better than my failures and I wanted to be two times better than my successes. One of my favorite people recognized I was becoming too defined by my career and told me to take a step back, to return to being "Adam Silvera, human who writes, not writer who humans." That was exactly what I wanted but I couldn't get there instantly. My warped perspective on my career and expectations for it, both internal and external, were preventing me from appreciating the true victories of being a writer- like someone telling me they enjoyed my work. Like someone else telling me my work saved their life.

I want more time, more lives, and this Rufus Emeterio has already accepted his fate. Maybe he's suicidal. Suicide can't be predicted specifically, but the death itself is still foreseen. If he is self-destructive, I shouldn't be around him- he might actually be the reason I'm about to clock out. But his photo clashes with that theory: he's smiling and he has welcoming eyes. I'll chat with him and, if I get a good vibe, he might be the kind of guy whose honesty will make me face myself. I'm going to reach out. There's nothing risky about saying hello.