ONLY DEAD PEOPLE KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN U DIE AND THAT FRUSTRATES ME
I think you still love me, but we can’t escape the fact that I’m not enough for you. I knew this was going to happen. So I’m not blaming you for falling in love with another woman. I’m not angry, either. I should be, but I’m not. I just feel pain. A lot of pain. I thought I could imagine how much this would hurt, but I was wrong.
My name is Hazel. Augustus Waters was the great star-crossed love of my life. Ours was an epic love story, and I won’t be able to get ore than a sentence into it without disappearing into a puddle of tears. Gus knew. Gus knew. I will not tell you our love story, because - like all real love stories - it will die with us, as it should. I’d hoped that he’d be eulogizing me, because there’s no one I’d rather have… I can’t talk about our love story, so I will talk about math. I am not a mathematician, but I know this. There are infinite numbers between 0 and 1. There’s 0.1 and 0.12 and 0.112 and infinite collection of others. Of course, there is a bigger infinite set of between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities. A writer we use to like taught us that. There are days, many of them, when I resent the size of my unbounded set. I want more numbers than I’m likely to get, and God, I want more numbers for Augustus Waters than he go. But, Gus, my love, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinite. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I’m grateful.
Hazel Grace eulogy for Augustus Waters.
The Fault In Our Stars by John Green.