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To Whomever It May Concern,

I am Alice. I am dying and I am sixteen years young.

Dear Young
At least I get to die being you.

Dear Death
You inching closer makes me nervous. Embrace me already! I hear there’s liberty in you.

Dear Liberty
I lost you the day Hope flew away.

Dear Hope
Stop breeding Misery, wherever you are.

Dear Misery
You are me and I am you. Two faces of the same person.

Dear Faces
You can stop the pretending now.

Dear Pretending
You’re my other me. Looks like a bad case of split personality. Isn’t that good?

Dear Good
I wish you mattered in this world.

Dear World
I wish I did something for you to remember me by.

Dear Me
Hello again.
Seems like I lost you somewhere between keeping you alive.
Dear Hello
goodbye.

               Alice

– LunaTheInksane
This style of writing was developed by Jennifer-Leigh Oprihory

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Hazel is wrong…

Hazel is wrong about infinite cardinality but she is right that some infinities are larger than others. I wanted her to be wrong but right, because that’s how we muddle through as observers of the universe – forging meaning where we can find it… from fact and fiction alike. And as my brain drowned in jet-lag I thought of the months I lived here. So much of that time I was sick and crippled with anxiety but all I could think about now, as night fell, was how much you can love made-up people; and how much you can miss them.

– John Green on a return visit to Amsterdam, the city where his book, The Fault in our Stars, is set in part