thank you john green for turtles all the way down because:
1. when i read Aza Holmes’ self-loathing, i was shocked for two reasons. one, because of the intensity of hatred. how could someone hate themselves so much?? but two, because i felt it too, could see that anger at myself in me. how could anyone not hate themselves??? i know myself too well, know every spiral, stray thought, pained realisation that i’m not good enough, will never be good enough. i don’t drink hand sanitiser, but there are other ways to destroy yourself because you want so much to be better (see: late nights, irregular meals, so many bad decisions, isolating myself)
2. the spirals are real. i couldn’t have put it better even if i tried for a thousand years. i’ve been spiralling down, tightening gyre, heart pounding as i follow thoughts that trip me as i run after them. i know i can run the opposite direction, but - no. no, they must be pursued. not quite as serious as Aza, but i can understand just a little bit. how not to chase those thoughts? mine are different thoughts, but i don’t choose them all the same.
3. when daisy ramirez said “don’t let Aza be cruel to holmesy”, i almost cried (like i would so many times later on). the multitudes, the reminder, the friend who doesn’t understand but tries so hard to. who makes mistakes, isn’t a saint, but is still trying. daisy became my best friend too. she’s fiction because she is too much of the best and worst of us. and their friendship is so full of “i love you”s that i’m sorry i cannot say to my friends in person. i love daisy ramirez.
4. the imagery melted me - a split-apart sky and the stars and the pain of microbes. this entire novel, an experience of broken up metaphors, stories, just like life. i feel like i live life the same way john green has written this. i feel understood. everything is a bit fragmented, all of these stories, things people hear and say and remember.
5. that uncomfortable feeling of first love. how do i say more?
6. that acknowledgement of narcissism felt like a personal attack. it’s been something i’ve been reflecting upon for a while now. an attack; a sense of solidarity. such conflicting feelings.
there are so many more reasons but these are a few of my own. i want to read it again but the first read has torn me apart, left me fragile and vulnerable with memories of first love and the ever-present anxieties of living. i don’t know if i can survive a second read, but some things are worth the pain. i saw some part of myself in this novel, and now i am simultaneously inspired and broken and healing. so, thank you john green.
