the thing about the fault in our stars trailer is that when augustus’ dialogue from the book is actually said out loud by an actual person you begin to realize that he sounds like a complete douchelord
"what music do you like?" is such a stressful question like what do you want to know??? genres?? artists?? albums??? time periods?? 25 most played?? what i’m currently listening to??? what i listen to at different times of the day?? be more specific??????
March 4, 2013
I was unpacking when I heard you walk in. I had on light pink lipstick that I found at the bottom of a box. You put a few things on the counter and handed me my car keys. I kissed you and asked if you could help me move the bed. You said you needed to talk. I keep replaying this over and over in my mind. I don’t think I’ll be able to unpack the rest of our boxes.
April 4, 2013
It’s been a month since you left.
Mark says you’re not coming back.
I can’t sleep.
Are you awake?
May 4, 2013
I finally went to the doctor like you had begged me to.
You were right and yeah, I’ll be fine.
June 4, 2013
I sold my engagement ring at a pawn shop today. I bought expensive lipstick and flowers. I also bought a lot of beer and a carton of cigarettes. I’ve lost a lot weight since you last saw me. My friends from high school that I haven’t seen in years hardly recognize me. It’s weird being back in this town without you. I spend most of my afternoons at the beach. I saw a sea turtle today while I was swimming. I miss eating breakfast food at midnight with you.
July 4, 2013
I stumbled across the video of you in the car singing Taylor Swift. I deleted it before it played all the way through but I have to admit it made me laugh. I can’t remember how your voice sounds saying my name. I broke down and called you. Thank you for not answering.
August 4, 2013
I dropped my cigarette in my lap when you drove past me today.
September 4, 1012
I went on a date.
He thinks Bud Light is “quality beer”.
It just isn’t going to work out.
October 4, 2013
It doesn’t hurt anymore to say your name.
November 4, 2013
Hope you’re doing well.
December 12, 2013
Thank you for setting me free.
”—These short letters are straight from my notebook, unedited and carelessly written in extremely unattractive cursive. -d.a.h (via beeeandpuppycat)
“To the boy I used to love: I am adjusting to the spaces
you left behind, the emptiness that beats in me like the
muffled drone of catechisms or a Catholic’s last rites.
Your name tastes like the medicine I took as a child to
keep my lungs from filling with fluid. My knees are bruised
from all the praying I’ve been doing of late. Tell me, love, do
you miss me yet? You can’t be entered by another human
being without sustaining damage, you know. You taught me
that. Someday soon my answer to the question, “How are
you?” will be genuine. I’m good. I’m great. I’ve scrubbed my
skin raw. Your promises were weeds in my nail bed. 150 days,
I’m still picking at my cuticles like there’s some hidden treasure
I’m bound to find. I am changing the locks to my back door. My
front door is always open, but listen, you will have to knock. I
will not be home. Leave a note. Etch your calling card above
the threshold, scrawl your name along the doorframe. I’ve left
the lipstick out for you. I’ve found it works nearly as well as a
ballpoint pen. The last words you ever said to me: “Thank you.”
I’ve never been good at saying goodbye. This is the last poem
I’ll write about you.”—Brianna Albers, “Poem for the Day I Deleted Him on Skype” (via perfect)