Prologue

We all have a story. It begins with a word and ends in the middle of a sentence. And whether or not our story is worth telling is up to the reader. But we endeavor to write something worth reading and read something worth writing. Or so Benjamin Franklin said. Just some words of wisdom from beyond the grave for you. And every word scrawled across the pages spells out the truth of what we hide. And that is what I am here to tell you. The truth.

You see, everyone is obsessed with leaving a mark in this world - yes, even you. And don't even try to convince yourself of anything different because if you do you are lying to yourself. Now where was I? Ah, yes - We all want to leave a mark. Something to be remembered by. Singing a song that will be heard. Writing something that will outlive us, that will cheat death. Pulling off stunts that are both reckless and plain stupid in the big scheme of things but that we're still desperate enough to attempt. Because to attempt is to be seen. And to be seen is to be noticed.

But dear reader, the marks we leave behind are too often scars. Scars that will never heal. And as of 2011, that's an estimate of seven billion scars out there that will never fade. And you think that they'll remember you now. You think they'll remember the sound of your voice when you sang that song on the radio, or remember the words you wrote, or remember you for your successes and not your failures right? Wrong. Because a) they don't remember you, and b) all you leave behind are more scars. And the scars run deep my friend.

I'm a good person but a hell of a shitty writer. So it's a good thing this story wasn't mine to write. Just mine to tell. And that is what I shall do. Speak the truth. I, Augustus Waters, do solemnly swear to speak the truth, the whole and nothing but the truth so help me God. And the black and white truth of it is that this story isn't sad. It's depressing as hell. It will paint the sky grey and bring the shed tears of clouds raining down on you for as long as it takes the sour to taste sweet again. So if you're expecting to find any silver linings between the paragraphs written here, I strongly suggest you go search elsewhere.

It's a story about a girl who wasn't a girl so much as a grenade who obliterated everything in her wake when her pin was pulled. Her name was Caroline. Caroline Mathers. Her scar was her disease. Her fault was her cancer. And this is her story. This is the truth in her stars.

Sorry...

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-birdywings:)