Crazy and Love, Crazy In Love

*Shamelessly also posted on THIS IS NOT MY DAY JOB, so if you read there, skip here. For today ONLY. I'm still figuring out what fits on this blog and what fits on the other, so bear with me. :)

I just finished John Green's Looking for Alaska, and I love this excerpt:

How could the girl who told that joke three hours ago become a sobbing mess?


Still staring at me, she said, "I try not to be scared, you know. But I still ruin everything. I still fuck everything up."


"Okay." I told her. "It's okay." I didn't even know what she was talking about anymore. One vague notion after another.

"Don't you know who you love, Pudge? You love the girl who makes you laugh and shows you porn and drinks wine with you. You don't love the crazy, sullen bitch."


And there was something to that, truth be told.


First, can I just say that this book is amazing, that John Green so far seems to be consistently amazing? But I love this excerpt in particular, because it reminds me of why I love MJ so much.  We're on opposite sides of the country tonight - me in Colorado Springs, him in Virginia - which always makes me a little extra bit cognizant of how much I love him. Here's a story about why.



Before I met MJ, it used to seem like I was always apologizing to boys I liked for being a disaster of some sort or another.
"I'm sorry, I'm not ready, don't touch me, but you're very sweet and I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry, I'm just emotional sometimes, I don't know why I'm so crazy."
"I'm sorry, I know you said not to get attached, but I feel the way I feel."


Blah blah blah. Just typing that makes me want to go back and hug my excessively earnest adolescent self.


I don't even know what set me off, but it was early in my relationship with MJ and I ended up sobbing in his arms as we laid on his bed. "I'm sorry, I'm just crazy."


"It's okay," he said, toying with my hair. "You're not crazy."


I twisted my head on his shoulder to look at him. He appeared to be serious, and in need of a shave. "I'm not crazy?" I repeated. It was the first time anyone had said such a thing to me, in the history of many admissions of insanity.


He shook his head. "No, anyone would be upset about that. I don't think you're crazy at all - I've met crazy, imbalanced girls, and you seem pretty normal."


Ah, that makes me laugh to type. But he said it, and I knew he was a keeper - because he thought I was normal, and that made it safe to just be me. No apologies required.

There was another moment, which cemented "I must love this man" for me, and that story involves Windex. But it will keep for another day.