Here's the thing. As much as I would like to be able to be stoic, as much as I'd like to just sit back and have fun and not care about other people, as much as I wish I could escape the romantic in me, that part will always be there. I will always care too much. I will always put other people's needs before my own. I will always want a Jane Austen/John Green style love.
And it makes me wonder. How does it happen that those of us who want it so desperately are unable to achieve it? Or maybe it's that we want it so badly because we can't find it in our own lives. And so we go through our lives hoping each and every day that maybe, just maybe, that day is going to be the one when, by some strange miracle, we meet the person with whom we'll find it. Maybe it'll be the day that someone tells us they can't live without us, that every day is an adventure when they're with us, that they blush too easily when they look at us because they don't want to stare, that we are so incredibly beautiful when we're asleep next to them, that they would do anything to make us happy.
Then we get to the point where we're convinced that no one ever will say those things to us. We think we're not worth the wasted breath. We're crazy for so many different reasons, and no one should care about us past the point of friendship because in the end they're only going to tire of us. They're going to get sick of supporting us through our emotional ups and downs, they'll be weary of saying "I love you" because we need to hear it every 10 seconds just to reaffirm it. We're not going to be enough to keep them interested.
Meanwhile our friends tell us that we just need to stop trying and it'll happen for us when we least expect it. And we'll scream inside our heads, "It's not that easy! You can't just turn hopeless romanticism off!" But we won't say it out loud, and we'll just spend our days waiting. We'll pretend we don't look for our person everywhere we go, that we don't hope someone's vague, angsty Tumblr posts are about us.
I need someone who will be my Augustus Waters, and I will be their Hazel Grace. I want to be the Alaska to someone's Pudge, and I want to equally be the Pudge to that person's Alaska. The drizzle and the hurricane, both of us. Maybe you have no idea what that means yet, but you will, and it's important. I want it so, so badly. I will be patient, as much as I can possibly be. Because as much as I don't believe it, I still hope that my friends are right when they say it'll happen for me. I'll try to keep believing that I'm worth it, that someone will want to know every intimate detail about me. It's so hard to hold on to that. But I will wait for you.
