” But alas,the world is not a wish granting factory”
-John greene (The fault in our stars)
Life seems to be a night without any clue what the weather next morning will be. It’s exciting but intimidating too.
Scared to think what might happen to people you love. Or perhaps you yourself might be the victim of god’s fancies. All this cleaves the heart into two. One that fears why at all should we live and what if we die today. The other wants to breathe the few left valid moments of life. One feels making relationships would lead to happiness. The other feels the effort is no more than to try to hold onto the sand in our hands for long, before it falls away and be a part of the vast ocean of its descendants. Forever to get lost in the abyss, with no more a distinct identity. Either they’ll be first or you to ascend to your real abode. Misery certainly is inevitable.
Where deep inside he too fears the loss…perhaps ill rather be the traveler and not the consoling beloved. Because to bear your pain is easier than seeing a beloved suffering.
To travel is easier than standing at your threshold and intending to lead the same life while a big change is about to happen.
Reading The fault in our stars leaves us with the same feeling.
How everyday ones escapes death, plays with it when you never know when you will be caught.
Hitherto Hazel felt like a grenade who would blow up people’s life and leave only victims and scars behind. Her cancerous self, rejected any idea of getting “hooked up” with a boy she felt highly attracted to. Though spending time with him, her appetite could no longer resist the temptation and she gave in.
The point when she kissed Augustus she lost the battle of her mind against her heart, giving her senses the pleasure of being in love. Little did she knew she herself fell for a grenade which exploded her life up, leaving her as a casualty with unbearably beloved scars.
It’s as if hazel got a gift in lieu of her diseased self. A person who loved her and died loving her making her a part of the last moments of his life through the letters he left for VanHouten. Where in the first half Hazel was the next feed of the dust, Augustus preceded her.It is certainly about…The fault in our stars which can make or break the constellation of life.