Michael H. Weber

The best thing about now, is that there's another one tomorrow.

Compared to other kids, I haven't had that many hardships… not really. Shit's… Stuff's happened, sure, but stuff always happens right? But the real challenge of my life, the real hardship is me. It's always been me.

You know what Dan, if you were my Dad, you wouldn't have to.

P.S. - I don't know if this was due a long time ago. Probably was. That's fine. It may be too late for this essay. But it's not too late for me.

Once you've actually talked to her, you see who she is.

You think beauty's in some classroom or some textbook, and it's not. That's not what it's about. This right here. This is beautiful. All of this. That's all you need.

As long as I can remember, I've never not been afraid. Afraid of failure… of letting people down… hurting people… getting hurt. I thought if I kept my guard up and focused on other things, other people… if I couldn't even feel it, well then no harm would come to me. I screwed up. Not only did I shut out the pain, I shut out everything - the good and the bad - until there was nothing.

As long as I can remember, I've never not been afraid. Afraid of failure... of letting people down... hurting people... getting hurt. I thought if I kept my guard up and focused on other things, other people... if I couldn't even feel it, well then no harm would come to me. I screwed up. Not only did I shut out the pain, I shut out everything - the good and the bad - until there was nothing.

It's fine to just live in the now,but the best part about now is there's another one tomorrow. And I'm gonna start making them count.

ps.I don't know if this was due a long time ago, Maybe too late for this essay ,it's not too late for me.

"Go for it" "You can do it"? That's not inspirational, that's suicidal. If pickles goes for it right there, that's a dead cat. These are lies. We're liars. Think about it. Why do people buy these things? It's not 'cause they wanna say how they feel. People buy cards 'cause they can't say how they feel or they're afraid too. We provide the service that lets them off the hook. You know what? I say to hell with it. Let's level with America. At least let them speak for themselves! Right? I mean, look! What-What is this? What does it say? "Congratulations on your new baby." Right? How 'bout, "Congratulations on your new baby. Guess that's it for hanging out. Nice knowing you."

How bout this one, with all the pretty hearts on the front? I think I know where this ones going. Yep! "Happy Valentines Day, sweetheart. I love you." That sweet? Ain't love grand? This is exactly what I'm talking about. What does that even mean, "love"? Do you know? Do you? Anybody?

If somebody gave me this card, Mr. Vance, I would eat it. It's these cards, and the movies and the pop songs, they're to blame for all the lies and the heartache, everything. We're responsible. *I'm responsible.* I think we do a bad thing here. People should be able to say how they feel, how they really feel, not you know, some words that some stranger put in their mouths. Words like "love"... that don't mean anything. Sorry, I'm sorry. I, uh... I quit. I'm... There's enough bullshit in the world without my help.

It's official. I'm in love with Summer. I love her smile. I love her hair. I love her knees. I love how she licks her lips before she talks. I love her heart-shaped birthmark on her neck. I love it when she sleeps.

This is lies. We are liars. Think about it. Why do people buy cards? It's not because they want to say how they feel. People buy cards because they can't say they feel or are afraid to. And we provide the service that let's them off the hook. You know what? I say to hell with it. Let's level with America. Or at least let them speak for themselves. Right?

Okay. Settle. She's just a girl. Just a girl. She wants to keep it casual, which is why she's in my bed right now. But that's casual. That's what casual people do. That's fine. That's great.

Well, "Why rock the boat?" is what I'm thinking. I mean, things are going well. You start putting labels on it, that's like the kiss of death. That's like saying, "I love you."

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.

Hello. My name is Hazel Grace Lancaster. And Augustus Waters was the star-crossed love of my life. Ours is an epic love story and I probably won't be able to get more than a sentence out without disappearing into a puddle of tears. Like all real love stories, ours will die with us, as it should. You know, I'd kind of hoped that he'd be the one eulogizing me, because there is really no one else... Yeah, no, um... I'm not gonna talk about our love story, 'cause I can't. So instead I'm gonna talk about math. I'm not a mathematician, but I do know this: There are infinite numbers between zero and one. There's point one, point one two, point one one two, and an infinite collection of others. Of course, there is a bigger set of infinite numbers between zero and two or between zero and a million. Some infinities are simply bigger than other infinities. A writer that we used to like taught us that. You know, I want more numbers than I'm likely to get, and God, do I want more days for Augustus Waters than what he got. But Gus, my love, I can not tell you how thankful I am, for our little infinity. You gave me a forever, within the numbered days. And for that I am... I am eternally grateful. I love you so much.

I am mad! I'm mad because I think you're special. And isn't that enough? You think that the only way to lead a meaningful life, is for everyone to remember you. For everyone to love you! Guess what, Gus - this is your life! This is all you get! You get me, and you get your family and you get this world, and that's it! And if that's not enough for you, then I'm sorry, but its not nothing. Because I love you. And I'm going to remember you.

It was unbearable... The whole thing. Every second, worse than the last. One of the first things they ask you in the ER is to rate your pain on a scale from one to ten. I've been asked this question hundreds of times. And I remember once when I couldn't catch my breath and it felt like my chest was on fire, the nurse asked me to rate my pain. Though I couldn't speak, I held up nine fingers. Later, when I started feeling better, the nurse came in and called me a fighter. "You know how I know?" she said. "You called a ten a nine." But that wasn't the truth. I didn't call it a nine because I was brave. The reason I called it a nine was because I was saving my ten. And this was it... This was the great and terrible ten.

I believe we have a choice in this world about how to tell sad stories. On the one hand, you can sugarcoat it the way they do in movies and romance novels, where beautiful people learn beautiful lessons, where nothing is too messed up that can't be fixed with an apology and a Peter Gabriel song. I like that version as much as the next girl, believe me. It's just not the truth. This is the truth. Sorry.