Ad finem:
To the end; at the end of the page
I think everyone deserves an ending. It doesn't have to be a happy ending, just an ending nonetheless. My story didn't end after Augustus's death. It continued; flourishing, breathing, living. Nothing was different- I still had to struggle for breath and haul my oxygen tank everywhere with me. I still woke up in the same room, my mom shaking me awake. I still excused sleeping as 'battling cancer'. Isaac and I remained friends. I watched TV every day like any 'normal' teenage girl. I still had checkups at the hospital. My parents still stared at me with dispreading sorrow in their eyes.
Things were different- Augustus was dead. I was depressed, despite my denial to my parents and myself. I hadn't contacted Peter Van Houton since Gus' death, and I wasn't sure I wanted to either. My parents no longer looked at me like I was a useless daughter with no life. They looked at me with pride glistening in their eyes. There were no more witty texts between us. No more 'okays'. Our story was over- there was no more Augustus and Hazel. There was only Hazel. Only me-but mine was yet to begin.
I wanted my story to end already. I didn't particularly want to live, even though I could still hear Augustus' letter ringing in my ears. Still see his words about hope and what a good life it was. I could feel life flourishing through me; inhale, exhale. He wanted me to live. I didn't want to live. I wanted to live; I wanted to consider my choices, my options. But I already had forever. Gus had given me forever within the numbered days between us. There was no point really.
I didn't apply to colleges. Like before, there was no point. I wouldn't last that long. My lungs were getting worse. I was sick of the feeling. Sick of feeling so weak and vulnerable. How many times would I have to feel the pang's of pain hitting my chest before I finally perished? The feeling that resembled cotton balls getting jammed into my chest and throat. My usually normal breathing turned ragged and hoarse. I always thought that breathing was a struggle before. Compared to this raging pain, it was like stubbing your toe.
"That's the thing about pain. It demands to be heard."
The doctor told me I only had a month left.
I lived for another year. Another long, agony-filled year. Such horrible irony. When I received the news, my parents were a mess. Me? I was content. Peaceful. I felt like I'd already lived my life. I accepted it as easy as putting on a bandage. A month passed. Then another. They told me I was lucky.
That wasn't my definition of fortunate. I defined it as torture.
I was so close to Augustus, and then I was so far away.
My breathing deep and even, a gentle snuffling of air through my nose, but gradually as the years went by it became a wheezing and whining sound interspersed with violent trembling of the body. The tone of my breathing become higher, but it took on a raspy, scrappy, spluttering noise. Lips trembling with every breath, each outlet of air. The intake of fluttering as my lungs struggled to infiltrate my constricted throat to feed the heaving lungs and palpitating heart.
Okay. I'm okay.
"Okay," he said after forever. "Maybe okay will be our always."
"Okay," I said.
Okayokayokayokayokayokayokayokayokayokayokaykayokayokayokayokayokayokayokayokay
This had to be some kind of sick, twisted joke in God's eyes. Why wasn't I dead yet? I'm being selfish. Any other dying person would gladly take my miracle. So give it to them. Let me die. I still like my choices. This is one of my choices.
I sometimes consider just disconnecting my oxygen tank.
But I know he wouldn't want me to.
There isn't a day that goes by with me wishing I had died first.
Dear Gus,
You told me that you hope I like my choices. I do. I truly do. I love being able to live in these extra moments with my parents, Isaac, and everyone else I care about. But I also care about you. Nearly four years later, you'd expect me to move on, right? I still visit your grave every week. Sometimes twice a week. Sometimes every day. I set some cigarette packs beside the stone; people give me odd looks. Let them stare. They don't know about us. I would tell you that I miss you, more than anything, but I figured that would sound cliché and too melodramatic, even if it isn't dramatic at all.
Okay. Okay. I have choices. I love them. But I always have the choice of death and it's always on my shoulder, waiting for the opportune moment to stop my breathing. It's a heavy burden to keep. I like my choices, Augustus. But I'm not sure I'm going to use them.
Okay?
Okay.
Love,
Hazel Grace
I think everyone deserves an ending. There's a beginning, so there has to be an ending. It's inevitable. Death. Life. My ending hasn't come yet, and I'm still patiently waiting. I'm not invincible. One day will be my last. Everyone dies.
But no one gets choices the way I did. No one got to have 'always' with a person like I did. No one got to have 'okay' with a person. And I'm thankful for that.
No one-
A/N: Ending was intentional. Reviews are greatly appreciated. And for those of you who have not read 'The Fault in Our Stars' READ IT! It is one of the most amazing books I have ever read, and I will always hold it dear to my heart. It changes your prespective of life, and words cannot describe it. I feel that everyone gets their own feeling/interpretation of the book, so I am not going to explain what I felt. R&R.