You are the closest I can get to a concrete and breathing Augustus Waters.

You are no athlete (nowhere near, in fact). You are not the romantic type, either (...except in the stuff you write. You know how to be romantic--you just never are and never genuinely try to be).

But.

You have Gus's wit. His metaphors. His sharp tongue.
His being both childish and childlike, but also his being contemplative and mature.

But you're not my Augustus Waters.

I mean, I like you. A lot.
Yet I don't like you like you (although at some point I have thought otherwise); neither do you like me like me (as far as I am aware).

It does not bother me that much, however. I am just glad a person like you actually exists in this world.

You are so weird and so awesome.

Labels: augustus waters, friend, the fault in our stars