Guys, I really wanted to love it. I really did. But I didn't. Don't get me wrong - I enjoyed reading it. I didn't want to put it down and all that. Maybe that was because I was waiting for something exciting and climactic? It never happened.
After seeing the movie, I realized why I am indifferent about the story line.
I've crossed the line - the fine line that separates you from childhood to adulthood. When I was still in "childhood," I related to every single young character. I could picture myself in their situations: getting butterflies, falling in love, being on a sports team, whatever.
Not anymore.
Hazel's character is only 16 (I think?) and Augustus is 18. They're teenagers. They play video games, they throw eggs at cars, they send flirty texts, they drink champagne and feel guilty about it.
As silly as it sounds, I don't remember that stuff. They're already foggy memories that are stored way back in my brain that I can only pull out if I try really hard. Some things stand out more than others, but it's hard to remember the way it felt to fall in love - to think about someone nonstop, to stare at the
Those days are behind me. And it's kind of sad.
At the end of the movie my thoughts drifted to Hazel's parents. Why? Because that's who I connect with in movies now. Parents. WHAT?? If I would've told my 22-year-old self that I would soon be resonating with forty somethings, I would've never believed it.
So thanks, fault in our stars, for making me realize that I am no longer the young, naive, hopeless romantic that I used to be.
And that's just the beginning of the one huge pity party I've been attending lately.
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