Three years after Augustus Waters had died from cancer, I couldn't take it any more. My crap lungs, having to be hooked up to different machines all of the time, not having Gus to call my own… So one night, after leaving Isaac's house, I dragged Phil, and myself, to my room. Thankfully, Mom and Dad were sleeping. I tore a piece of paper from a notebook, and let the words flow from my pen.

Dear Mom & Dad,

You know how some days, you get that feeling that you are tired of everything? You just want to disappear, right? That's how I've felt ever since I was diagnosed. I cannot be free anymore. I'm either parading around with an oxygen tank or hooked up to, what is pretty much, a life support machine in my sleep. Everyone, including myself, knows that I won't make it to 21, so why not face the grief now? I love you both so much. You really are the best people on the planet. Don't dwell on me, travel the world and live a life you couldn't have while I was here to burden you. Don't worry, there is someone waiting for me to meet him. Tell Isaac and Kaitlyn that they are a gift. I love you so much.

Love Always,

Hazel Grace Lancaster

P.S. I want to be burried in the dress I wore to the Oranjee.

And with that, I set my pen down onto my desk. I put Bluie next to the letter, undid the cannula nubs from my nose, and laid down on my bed. I thought of Peter Van Houten for some odd reason. He had published a sequel to An Imperial Affliction a few months back. I was the first person to receive a copy; cancer perk. (Spoiler Alert: The Dutch Tulip Man is not a con man. Him and Anna's mother get married.) I thought of how Peter lost all of his family, even his daughter. But somehow he just… moved on. I haven't stopped mourning Augustus after three years, never mind exiling him from my mind completely. To have the mental strength to do that is horrifying and somewhat amazing in it's own way.

Then I thought of Isaac and Monica. She had promised him "always". And because he was going blind made her think "Nah, this one is too much work!" After all, love is just a promise. You trust someone with your heart, and make them promise not to crush it. Then if they do crush it, you are left to sew the pieces back together. Then, the cycle repeats. Some people find their promise-keepers, others never do. And some people let their promise-keepers go. I found the person whom I trusted not to crush my heart, three years ago, in the Literal Heart of Jesus during a support group session, which was my Mother's attempt to get me to make friends. But I made more than a friend.

I made a lover with whom I could share my darkest secrets and deepest desires with.

I made a sibling who I vowed to protect, no matter what the circumstances were.

I made a best friend with whom I could bicker with but love in the next five seconds.

I made my other half, but now he is gone, and he is never going to come back.

I suddenly felt my lungs gradually clog up with water. I felt tumors enlarge into each other. I felt my entire being collapse, and I didn't try to stop it. Because this is what I wanted. I wanted out.

"Okay?" I whispered, yearning for an answer. And all of the light from the worlds vanished for a moment, and then they were on. I turned to see a boy with a lopsided grin and messy hair with an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Okay."