Gus: “It tastes like…”
Me: “Food.”
Gus: “Yes, precisely. It tastes like food, excellently prepared. But it does not taste, how do I put this delicately…?”
Me: “It does not taste like God Himself cooked heaven into a series of five dishes which were then served to you accompanied by several luminous balls of fermented, bubbly plasma while actual and literal flower petals floated down around your canal-side dinner table.”
Gus: “Nicely phrased.”
Gus’s father: “Our children are weird.”
My dad: “Nicely phrased.”
― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars
Reblog if you feel or have ever felt any:
- Fat
- Awkward
- Alone
- Scared
- Depressed
- Suicidal
- The urge to cut or self-harm in any way
- Abused
- Used
I have something to say to all of you. A personalized message, no copy+paste shit. No matter how many notes this gets, i will send everyone a message.
