tea.

Demon-Possession Anonymous meets once a week, and attendance is mandatory. My counsellor says that I have “unresolved anger.” resulting from the time that I was taken for a ride over the Summer Solstice, two months ago. No shit, I say, Demon!Olive had no use for A-levels. So Demon!Olive didn’t show up for the exams, and fucking Human!Olive has to retake them all. I am not just angry. I am /furious/.
My mother, supportive soul that she is, thinks that it’s because I’m an angsty teenager. Everyone seems to have their theory as to why I am a perpetual grinch. I’m hormonal, I had a rough weekend, I ate something that didn’t agree with me…
Well, they’re not wrong.
I ate a fairly major demon, and now we bicker every Saturday evening.

---

Our counsellor's name is Jan. She’s in her late fifties, and thinks that she understands all about our experiences and pain because she was possessed when she was thirty. Great, good for her. Except her demon is nowhere in sight and never had to sit through an hour of well-meaning torture.

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There are two ways out of the sessions, which take place in a village hall with tea and biscuits serving as some kind of bribery. You either forgive your demon, hug it out, and move on. Or you die trying. People usually befriend their demons; I chose to fight mine.

---

“In life, we struggle.” Jan began the evening. “These have a purpose. That purpose is for us to learn. We learn many things, such as love. We take away a sense of purpose."
I was busy mouthing "Porpoise" every time that Jan said "Purpose." which transformed her monologue into an entertaining wildlife documentary, but it did mean that I almost yelped when Caym tapped my leg. There was some leftover vestige of whatever he did when he was lodging, because it was like being jabbed with a red-hot poker.
"What?" I hissed from the side of my mouth. We sat in a circle of plastic chairs, and Jan had an instinct for knowing when the attention wasn't solely on her.
"If I've given you a sense of purpose, surely you should be thanking me." Caym murmured, leaning back in his chair. He had the timeless grace of most demons, and was irritating beyond all measure.
"I parked your ex's Merc in a tree," I retorted, struggling to keep my voice down. "and I have not noticed a word of gratitude."
"I took you to California!"
"You fucked up my carbon footprint!"
"I showed you the world!"
"I watch Discovery Channel - I didn't need to see it!"
"I rule 30 legions; do you really suppose that I worry about your opinion?"
"I have to retake ten exams; do you really suppose that I care about your summer home?!"
"Olive, Caym-" Jan looked wounded, "What happened to those soothing breaths?"
"Can't spell 'Demon' without 'Emo'." Caym pointed out. "I'm destined to be a jerk. And Olive-"
"Anger issues." I chipped in. "Socially inept."
It was ironic, really, that we only got on when covering our backsides.
"You two. Match made in heaven." Jan bemoaned.
"Hell, actually." Caym corrected with a winning smile.

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Missing people isn't kind. No one wants you to miss them. They want you to let them go, to breathe in and taste the fresh air. They want you to smile at the memories and to laugh at the photos.
Missing people, a quote once said, is self-centred. I self-centre him most dreadfully.

---

His place in the city is gradually becoming more and more barren. It always felt like some kind of home; despite the fact that it was so small that his bed only fit in after he cut the end off and that he has kicked himself in the face more times than I can remember falling out of it. He tells me that he doesn't know how he's going to get it out of the apartment. He says that he'll probably leave it and hope that his landlord doesn't notice.

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The thought sends these pangs of sadness through me, and I forget to breathe. I'm so scared of forgetting.
The way that he runs his hands through his hair when he's thinking; the way that he rubs the corner of his eye; the way that when he smiles, one side of his mouth lifts before the other; the way that he throws his head back and his deep, deep laugh; the way that he bends his knee so that the scar seems to wave at you; The way that his tattoos are all well and good but he has a freckle right in the middle of one of the stars.

---

The way that he'd pull my head against his chest and kiss my hair.
The way that he always had this incredible look of wonder on his face when I wore a dress.
The way that he'd wave his hands when we talked about space and the universe and possibilities.
The way that he always, always had time even if it meant being fifteen minutes late.
The way that he left drunk phone messages that crippled me.

---

His smell is going to disappear from the walls, the impression of two entwined bodies is going to be erased when he takes the dark blue sheets. He's taking the photos, the CDs, the hoodie with paint stains from where he leant against the door frame we'd literally just finished painting. He's taking it all.
It isn't a question of "if" any more, it's a question of "when". It's a question of "why?".
I don't think either of us know the answers.

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I picked up the first book because I was curious.

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I picked up the second because I was hooked.

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I threw the third out of my bedroom window because I was heartbroken. (And then grudgingly went to retrieve it. Roth may well have just ripped my soul into several pieces, but there was still several chapters left.)

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The novels have been compared to The Hunger Games and The Maze Runner numerous times - The Earth as we know it is no more, there are bad guys, there are rebels, there is adventure and a corrupt system just begging to be overthrown. I love books like that shamelessly.

---

Divergent introduced the world to the concept of factions, which was a novel idea! (Ehehehehe.) (Lame? Lame.)
You've got Abnegation, for the selfless;
Candor, for the honest;
Amity, for the farmers (I loved these guys. Sign me up. Happy bread? Win.)
Dauntless, for the brave (Stupid? Brave? Same difference.)
And Erudite, for the intelligent (*cough* nerds *cough*)

---

I believe that it was this that so captured the public's attention. The idea of splitting people into groups according to their personality traits is a new one - and every reader is going to go "I bet I'd be in this faction." (Or, most likely, "Bitch please, I'm Divergent.")
We follow Tris on her initiation process when she leaves her Abnegation family behind for Dauntless. Stakes are high when it comes to the factions. Screw it up and you're factionless. There's always a chance that you'll die during initiation. Or your fellow initiates might decide that you walk too slowly in the corridors or something and what do you know, you're murdered in your sleep. Or when you're awake. It's all kind of lethal. Roth's writing style lends itself to this - she paints a fast paced picture that leaves you completely exhilarated. Character angst getting too much? No worries, we'll throw them off a train!

---

So, there's that. That was interesting and cool and I really, really liked it.

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Characters are the main part of any series, for me. I get overly attached. I cry. I laugh. I swoon because I am an 18 year old girl and Four.
For the first book, I loved the characters. I haven't read the books in a good six months, but the character that stands out to me is actually Tris's mother. She fascinated me. I loved the Four/Tris relationship and how it built up.I loved the friendships. I loathed the appropriate people. It was grand.
However, by the second book it all got a little bit "same old" for me.
I understand that it's from Tris's point of view, and therefore she gets a solid 8.5 on the "How much angst is this character allowed" scale. But that scale started tipping towards a 10, and I loved that less.
In "Allegiant", angst ran wild, more and more favourite characters were killed off, tears flowed.

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I'd definitely recommend the trilogy. The books have a startling political undercurrent and the second and third are set in wartime. They made me think and laugh. I loved them.

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Drawing comparisons between Wales and Scotland is something of a fool's game at the moment, because Wales's nationhood is in it's infancy. We have no separate legal system and no memory of what it means to be self-governed.
Honestly, independence would cripple us. It's a terrible idea and clearly not economically viable.

---

Unfortunately, we're a very proud people. Being Welsh comes with a sense of passion and honour that I have never experienced elsewhere. We don't /want/ to be England's poor relative. We don't /want/ to rely on grants and regeneration funds. Plaid Cymru's ideals are very attractive to our egos, but we're going to have to swallow that pride. At least for the time being.

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Financially speaking, Carwyn Jones has confirmed that there is no benefit in Wales's devolution at the current time. In reality, Wales spends more than it earns in tax. We receive a subsidiary from England. So take that subsidiary away and we can't support ourselves; we would slip so far backwards. All progress that's been made in recent years - the lifestyle that the current generations enjoy, job security, schooling - would be gone.

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I've lived in England and I live in Wales. Looking at the subject of independence from both sides; I don't see a bright future for Wales should it pursue devolution. It would be great for national spirit for all of ten minutes, but then the hardships and turbulence would begin.

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