I’m sitting here with half dried tears on my face and a finished book. Everyone said “you’ll be crying your eyes out by the end”. Let me just say that every time I heard this I rolled my eyes. It takes A LOT for me to be reduced to tears after a book or movie or TV show. Call me a cold-hearted bitch but my emotions just don’t work that way. Until now.
Considering this is my first novel review or whatever you wish to call this, I’m going to try as much as I can to not spoil anything about the plot. I’d like to just muddle over what I’ve just acquired into my consciousness: the stars and the constellations and the universe and those things we call faults.
That’s what I’d like to do. Just breathe. Breathe for Hazel and Gus. And breathe for myself because I was given this body to service me many purposes, and one of those purposes is to breathe. It’s all very: “your body is a vessel for the spirit and a temple to protect” and all those things that people who say those things say. But I’m not kidding. I just want to breathe.
You know what else I’m going to do? I’m going to drink champagne. So I can “taste the stars” and celebrate whatever that may mean to me at the moment, whether I’m drinking it from a red solo cup or from a crystal champagne flute. Because why the hell not?
Lastly, I’m going to be strong. Because I am so blessed that I can’t even comprehend the extent to which I am blessed. And therefore there is little to no reason why I can’t and shouldn’t be strong.
So to you, John Green, you got me. Dammit.
That is all. I think. I’m still processing. I’ve been told the fetal position helps in these starry circumstances.