FOOL ME ONCE,
IT'S SHAME ON YOU
IT'S SHAME ON YOU
FOOL ME TWICE
AND
LET THE WOLVES COME CRASHING THROUGH
LET THE WOLVES COME CRASHING THROUGH
My brother just told his friend
"You aren't the brightest cookie in the box."
and I'm just sitting over here,
with a stunned look on my face,
trying to decide whether to:
A.) laugh at the irony
or
B.) facepalm at the stupidity
"You aren't the brightest cookie in the box."
and I'm just sitting over here,
with a stunned look on my face,
trying to decide whether to:
A.) laugh at the irony
or
B.) facepalm at the stupidity
“
Once is a Stranger.Twice is a
Coincidence..
Three times
is a
Tail...
-Ally Carter
"Cross my Heart and Hope to Spy"|Gallagher Girls
”
While you were busy
judging others,
you left your closet open and your skeletons fell out.
you left your closet open and your skeletons fell out.
A giraffe walks into a bar, orders 6 vodkas and shame on you for expecting a punch line.
This giraffe needs help.
You agreed with me!
Then you come up to me
And say "how dare you!"
No!
How dare you!
Stand by my side
And then just turn on me
Just because it doesnt go as planned!
So you come out easy
While you leave me with everyones hatred!!
Shame on You!!
"I know how to play the guitar!"
Says the one who can only play Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star...
" Van Houten,
I'm a good person but a sh--ty writer. You're a sh--ty
person but a good writer. We'd make a good team.
I don't want to ask you any favors, but if you have
time - and from what I saw, you have plenty - I was
wondering if you could write a eulogy for Hazel. I've
got notes and everything, but if you could just make
it into a coherent whole or whatever? Or even just
tell me what I should say differently.
Here's the thing about Hazel: Almost everyone
is obsessed with leaving a mark upon the world.
Bequeathing a legacy. Outlasting death. We all want
to be remembered. I do, too. That's what bothers me
most, is being another unremembered casualty in
the ancient and inglorious war against disease.
I want to leave a mark.
But Van Houten: The marks humans leave are too
often scars. You build a hideous minimall or start
a coup or try to become a rock star and you think,
"They'll remember me now," but (a) they don't
remember you, and (b) all you leave behind are
more scars. Your coup becomes a dictatorship. Your
minimall becomes a lesion.
(Okay, maybe I'm not such a sh--ty writer. But I can't
pull my ideas together, Van Houten. My thoughts
are stars I can't fathom into constellations.)
We are like a bunch of dogs squirting on fire
hydrants. We poison the groundwater with our
toxic p--s, marking everything MINE in a ridiculous
attempt to survive our deaths. I can't stop p--sing
on fire hydrants. I know it's silly and useless - epically
useless in my current state - but I am an animal like
any other.
Hazel is different. She walks lightly, old man. She
walks lightly upon the earth. Hazel knows the truth:
We're as likely to hurt the universe as we are to help
it, and we're not likely to do either.
People will say it's sad that she leaves a lesser scar,
that fewer remember her, that she was loved deeply
but not widely. But it's not sad, Van Houten. It’s
triumphant. It's heroic. Isn't that the real heroism?
Like the doctors say: First, do no harm.
The real heroes anyway aren't the people doing
things; the real heroes are the people NOTICING
things, paying attention. The guy who invented the
smallpox vaccine didn't actually invent anything.
He just noticed that people with cowpox didn't get
smallpox.
After my PET scan lit up, I snuck into the ICU and
saw her while she was unconscious. I just walked
in behind a nurse with a badge and I got to sit next
to her for like ten minutes before I got caught. I
really thought she was going to die before I could
tell her that I was going to die, too. It was brutal:
the incessant mechanized haranguing of intensive
care. She had this dark cancer water dripping out of
her chest. Eyes closed. Intubated. But her hand was
still her hand, still warm and the nails painted this
almost black dark blue and I just held her hands and
tried to imagine the world without us and for about
one second I was a good enough person to hope she
died so she would never know that I was going, too.
But then I wanted more time so we could fall in love.
I got my wish, I suppose. I left my scar.
A nurse guy came in and told me I had to leave, that
visitors weren't allowed, and I asked if she was doing
okay, and the guy said, "She's still taking on water."
A desert blessing, an ocean curse.
What else? She is so beautiful. You don't get tired
of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter
than you: You know she is. She is funny without
ever being mean. I love her. I am so lucky to love her,
Van Houten. You don't get to choose if you get hurt
in this world, old man, but you do have some say
in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes
hers. "
