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Mom sobbed something into Dad's chest that I wish I hadn't heard, and that I hope she never finds out that I did hear. She said, I won't be a mom anymore. It gutted me pretty badly.

John Green

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John Green
Age: 47
Born: 1977
Born: August 24
Author
Businessperson
Critic
Editor
Film Producer
Journalist
Literary Critic
Novelist
Podcaster
Singer
Indianapolis
Indiana
John Michael Green
Never
Mom
Sobbed
Anymore
Gutted
Pretty
Chest
Hear
Chests
Heard
Badly
Hope
Hadn
Wish
Finds
Something
Dad

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Maybe we're grass—our roots so interdependent that no one is dead as long as someone is still alive.
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I don't know why boys expect us to like boy movies. We don't expect them to like girl movies.
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After all this time, it seems to me like straight and fast is the only way out- but I choose the labyrinth. The labyrinth blows, but I choose it.
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So I let her go, too. And I'm sorry.
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When we think of death, we often imagine it as happening in degrees: We think of a sick person becoming less and less alive until finally they are gone.
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Before any of it could make sense, it had to be heard.
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I choose the labyrinth.
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And, since they are theater people, they are all talking. All of them. Simultaneously. They do not need to be heard they only need to be speaking.
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I have guts, just not when it counts.
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Here's my answer to the very real existential crisis that grips me midway through everything I've ever tried to do: I think stories help us fight the nihilistic urges that constantly threaten to consume us.
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I felt the unfairness of it, the inarguable injustice of loving someone who might have loved you back but can't due to deadness.
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Remember that time in the minivan, twenty minutes ago, when we didn't die?
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Depression is a side effect of dying. (Almost everything is, really).
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