Mr. Van Houten,
I’m a good person but a [bad word] writer. You’re a [bad word] person but a good writer. We’d make a good team. I don’t want to ask you any favors, but if you have the time – and from what I saw, you have plenty – please fix this for me, it's a eulogy for Hazel. She asked me to write, and I'm trying. I'm just... I can use a little flare. 
So the thing is: We all want to be remembered. But Hazel knows the [bad word]  she didn't want a million admires, she just wanted one. And she got it. Maybe she wasn't loved wildly, but she was loved deeply. And isn't that more that most of us get? When Hazel was sick, I knew I was dying, but I didn't wanna say so. 
She was in the ICU when i stuck at her for 10 minutes and I sat with her for her caught. Her eyes were closed, skin pale, but her hands were still her hands, so warm and her nails were painted this dark blue black color. And I just held them, and I wild myself to imagine the world without us, what a worthless world that would be. 
She is so beautiful. You don’t get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter than you, 'cause you know she is. She is funny without ever being mean. I love her. God, 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, but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers. 
Okay, Hazel Grace?
Okay.