Upon finishing The Fault in Our Stars yesterday, I was struck with many thoughts and feelings, as I mentioned. The most prevalent of them was this: that I am, and probably always will be, more of an Augustus than a Hazel.  I just want my life to mean something, and perhaps that is my hamartia, as well.

How do you tread lightly upon the earth? How do you accumulate fewer scars? And, for that matter, are the scars really so bad? I mean, for crying out loud, what else are we supposed to be doing but loving? And if loving always leads to scarring… what the hell else are we supposed to do? 

And yet, I know that the noble thing is the Hazel thing.  I have a very good friend who is more of a Hazel than an Augustus, and until I read the lines in John Green’s glorious book about cancer kids, I don’t think I ever understood why.  I just knew on an intuitive level that I was more of a scarrer, a karma-incurrer, a hurter, a carer, whereas she was more of a harmless creature, good at heart, gentle at the level that matters.

I get so angry when I’m honest, even if I hide it.  She never has—not in the cruel way.

Caring=loving=hurting.  It always goes this way. Why oh why?

Sometimes I think it’s because we don’t understand the basic laws of this world. Or, we just forget.  It’s so sad, that caring a little leads to loving, leads to caring too much, leads to being too close, leads to resentment, pain, John Green’s word: scars.

Should I want to matter? Should I care what people think? Should I love too hard and regret it and try to fix it and fail?

Probably not, but my hamartia suggests that I always will. Or, I guess, that I will until I decide to make a conscious effort to let it go.