Paper girl in Quentin

Jst sem paper girl in on je Quentin. Prejšnji teden sem si zamišljala, da bom nekoč napisala film o najinem prijateljstvu, ampak sem zdaj ugotovila, da je že narejen. S tem, da se je njun končal še kar nepričakovano in presenetljivo podobno najinemu filmu (samo za malenkost bolj pozitivno).  

Ne morem reči, da ne pogrešam vseh najinih skupnih trenutkov, kosil, pogovorov, filmov, serij, njegovega smeha, sedenja na hribčku pred njegovim domom, ležanja v Tivoliju in gledanja oblakov. Pogrešam milijon stvari, V bistvu njega celega. Samo kaj, ko je zdaj vse drugače...

Ampak spomine nočem mazati z grdimi mislimi. Sem se odločila, da spominov ne bom tikala in se bom spomnila vseh najinih čudovitih trenutkov, kot da se zadnje dejanje najinega filma ne bi odvilo. Zakopani so v mojem srcu in so dragoceni. Ne glede na vse. Tudi če si je v resnici cel čas mislil, da sem nesamozavestna punca s katero ni najbolj fajn preživljati časa. 

Zdaj prav slišim v glavi tisto dramatično čustveno muziko, ki pride ob vsakem koncu filma in mi gre na jok, tudi če nočem. Sovražim konce. Sploh nesrečne. Mi teži, da se je vse tako grdo odvilo in da me je prizadelo bolj, kot bi me moralo. En teden pogojne sprave je pri koncu. Ni pisal. Ni poklical. Kar pomeni konec. Še en boleč križec na zidu mojih koncev. 

“Here's what's not beautiful about it: from here, you can't see the rust or the cracked paint or whatever, but you can tell what the place really is. You can see how fake it all is. It's not even hard enough to be made out of plastic. It's a paper town. I mean, look at it, Q: look at all those culs-de-sac, those streets that turn in on themselves, all the houses that were built to fall apart. All those paper people living in their paper houses, burning the future to stay warm. All the paper kids drinking beer some bum bought for them at the paper convenience store. Everyone demented with the mania of owning things. All the things paper-thin and paper-frail. And all the people, too. I've lived here for eighteen years and I have never once in my life come across anyone who cares about anything that matters.” (John Green)

“The town was paper, but the memories were not.”