Mr. Van Houten. I’m a good person, but a shitty writer. You’re a shitty person, but a good writer. I think we’d make a good team. I don’t wanna ask you for any favors, but if you have the time – and from what I saw you had plenty – please fix this for me: It’s a eulogy for Hazel. She asked me to write one, and I’m trying, but I just… I could use a little flair. See, the thing is… we all wanna be remembered. But Hazel’s different. Hazel knows the truth. She didn’t want a million admirers, she just wanted one. And she got it. Maybe she wasn’t loved widely, but she was loved deeply. And isn’t that more than most of us get? When Hazel was sick, I knew I was dying, but I didn’t wanna say so. She was in the ICU when I snuck in for ten minutes and I just sat with her before I got caught. Her eyes were closed, her skin pale, but her hands were still her hands, still warm, and her nails were painted this dark blue black color, and… I just held them. And I willed myself to imagine a world without us and what a worthless world that would be. She’s so beautiful. You don’t get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she’s smarter than you, ’cause you know she is. She’s funny without ever being mean. I love her. God, I love her, I’m so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, but you do have a say in who hurts you. And I like my choices. I hope she likes hers. Okay, Hazel Grace?
I am in love with you. And I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed. And that one day all our labor will be returned to dust. And I know that the sun will swallow the only earth we will ever have. And I am in love with you.
Hello, ma’am. Your daughter, she’s done a great injustice, so we’ve come here seeking revenge. You see, we may not look like much, but between the three of us we have five legs, four eyes and two and a half pairs of working lungs, but we also have two dozen eggs, so if I were you, I would go back inside.
They don’t kill you unless you light them. And I’ve never lit one. It’s a metaphor, see: you put the killing thing right between your teeth, but you don’t give it the power to do its killing. A metaphor.
