John Green and David Levithan: Will Grayson, Will Grayson

I LOVE THIS BOOK!
This is about... Well, frankly it's not always about Will Grayson, tho. There is this dude named Tiny Cooper as Will Grayson's bestfriend and he is gay. And this girl named Jane who finally become Will Grayson's girlfriend. And finally they meet the other guy which is gay and also have a name Will Grayson (written on all-low-caps). And in the other will grayson's life, he have Maura which—uhm, you have to read the story. It's quite long if I explain it over here. Oh but, one more spoiler: Tiny Cooper ended up with will grayson.

Okay, so.. As wikipedia said, John Green written the Will Grayson character's life while David Levithan writtern the will grayson's part. And the way they met is so... I don't know man, it just awesome like how can they create such a masterpiece?

So here's the quotes from Will Grayson, Will Grayson.

———————————————————————————————————

To begin with, you cannot possibly pick your friends.

Honestly, none of them ever seemed to like me, but they were around, which isn't nothing. And now they aren't around, leaving me utterly bereft of social peers.

I don't really understand the point of crying. Also, I feel that crying is almost—like, aside from deaths of relatives or whatever—totally avoidable if you follow two very simple rules: 1.Don't care too much. 2. Shut up.

I respond the way I always do: by looking down and walking straight and fast. I know they're kidding. I know part of knowing someone is being mean to them or whatever. So I shut up, and I don't care, and I keep walking, and soon it's over.

i am constantly torn between killing myself and killing everyone around me. those seem to be the two choices. everything else is just killing time.

i do not say 'good-bye.' i believe that's one of the bullshittiest words ever invented. it's not like you're given the choice to say 'bad-bye' or 'awful-bye' or 'couldn't-careless-about-you-bye.' every time you leave, it's supposed to be a good one. well, i don't believe in that. i believe against that.

it's like those people who become friends in prison even though they would never really talk to each other if they weren't in prison.

i have no idea why anyone would want to become a teacher. i mean, you have to spend the day with a group of kids who either hate your guts or are kissing up to you to get a good grade. that has to get to you after a while, being surrounded by people who will never like you for any real reason. i'd feel bad for them if they weren't such sadists and losers. with sadists, it's all about the power and the control. they teach so they can have an official reason to dominate other people. and the losers make up pretty much all other teachers, from the ones who are to incompetent to do anything else to the ones who want to be their students' best friends because they never had friends when they were in high school. and there are the ones who honestly think we're going to remember a thing they say to us after final exams are over. right.

when i look at the guys and girls at the other tables, i wonder what they could possibly have to say to each other. they're all so boring and they're all trying to make up for it by talking louder. i'd rather just sit here and eat.

if anyone ever uses lol with me, i rip my computer right out of the wall and smash it over the nearest head. i mean, it's not like anyone is laughing out loud about the things they lol. i think it should be spelled loll, like a lobotomized person's tongue does. loll. loll. i can't think any more. loll. loll!
or ttyl. bitch, you're not actually talking. that would require actual vocal contact. or <3. you think that looks like a heart? if you do, that's only because you've never seen scortum.
(rofl! what? are you really rolling on the floor laughing? well, please stay down there a sec while I KICK YOUR ASS.)

'cause friendship should not be as easy as that. it's like people believe all you need to do is like the same bands in order to be soulmates. or books.
omg . . . U like the outsiders 2 . . . it's like we're the same person! no we're not. it's like have the same english teacher. there's a difference.

Some people have lives; some people have music.

At 3:30 the next afternoon, the eight period bell rings, and for a nanosecond, I feel the endorphins sizzling through my body that usually indicate I have successfully survived another school day without anything happening, but then I remember: day ain't over yet.

"Why would you like someone who can't like you back?" The question is rhetorical, but if I wasn't trying to shut up, I'd answer it: You like someone who can't like you back because unrequited love can be survived in a way that once-requited love cannot.

I'm sitting here thinking, God, I swear I will take a vow of silence and move to a monastery and worship you for all my days if you just this once provide me with an invisibility cloak, come on come on, please please invisibility cloak now now now.

all sorts of yayness floods my brain. love is such a drug.

this is a game we play. most of the time we're not serious. like, there are different ways it could go.

i can imagine living them. i don't even picture it. instead i'm in it. [...] that peace. it would be so happy, and it makes me sad because it only exists in words.

Maybe I am a robot after all. I have no idea what to say, so I go ahead and say the worst possible thing.

at this moment, i want to jump ahead in time, or, if that doesn't work, i'll settle for travelling back in time.

"I don't know," I say finally. "People are pretty fucking weird, if you haven't noticed."

"Do you believe in epiphanies? Like, do you believe that people's attitudes can change? One day you wake up and you realize something, you see something in a way that you never saw it before, an boom, epiphany. Something is different forever. Do you believe in that?" "No. I don't think anything happens all at once. I mean, anything that happens all at once is just likely to unhappen all at once, you know?"

"... I think you're great, and very cute—and by cute I mean beautiful but don't want to say beautiful because it's cliche..."

Not that smart. Not that hot. Not that nice. Not that funny. That's me: I'm not that.

I know it's immature, but I don't care. Sometimes you need your best friend to walk through the doors.

they don't know what they've got till it's gone.

I just think that if you don't say the honest thing, sometimes the honest thing never becomes true.

"But with friendship, there's nothing like that. Being in a relationship, that's something you choose. Being friends, that's just something you are."

"I'd pick you. Fuck it, I do pick you. [....] We've been friends too long to pick, but if we could pick, I'd pick you."

you'd think that silence would be peaceful. but really, it's painful.

you know there's no such thing as a complete lie. there's always some truth in there.

weltschmerz. it's the depression you feel when the world as it does not line up with the world as you think it should be.

in my kind of falling, there's no landing. there's only hitting the ground. hard. dead, or wanting to be dead. so the whole time you're falling, it's the worst feeling in the world.

because we can't stop the weltschmerz. we can't stop imagining the world as it might be.

———————————————————————————————————

Can't believe that I only pick a little of lines. Well, I drowned on the book, alas. Like I did when I read the Perks of Being a Wallflower. :))

But, here's how Will Grayson follow his rule to shut up:

and this is how's will grayson shut his mouth:

And I found it amazing because they can actually stand to ignore people THAT MUCH and I have no idea how that could be. :))

Quotes from the Realm of Possibility, David Levithan.

our town is so many miles with nowhere to go. nowhere but the woods, where leaves block out the haze of the city blocking out the stars.

i light matches for candles for sitting in my room and wanting a flicker of life, a flicker of mood.

we talk about growing up, about college. jed talks about the foreseeable future and how little there is that we can foresee.

i could make a life out of this. i, who have never been prepared.

i realize i have already made a life out of this. i am capable of making a life.

there is negative noticing and there is positive noticing.

and i hate myself because i can't help caring, looking to see if they notice and what they think.

then he says i worry about you. and i tell him don't. and he says that's exactly why.

why don't they leave me alone? don't they realize i have a tinder heart and a paper body and that any spark will turn me straight to ash?

i score the silence. i tread through air. i feel gone. i feel like the shadow behind the shades.

and i stand there and i wonder what i am doing, i wonder what i should do, and i don't know i don't know i don't know what to do. i don't know whether to take, to hold, to stay, to walk away, and i think that is it—that is everything.

all the feelings are dead inside me and i want them to be alive.

I had to wait some time for something more real.

I see the hurt. I see the mark. I see the signs. There's nothing I can do.

I've lost track of where friendship ends and falling begins. (this is the foolish refrain of the hopelessly devoted.)

teenagers are never joking, when seeking to prove a point, principals and teachers should remember that teenagers are never, ever sarcastic or ironic. if they say, "I wish someone would drop a bomb on this school right now," that means they have arranged for a nuclear arsenal to be emptied onto the school and should be immediately suspended and ridiculed.

if you look over his shoulder, you will see that everything he writes is always about you.

Did you see how lonely that girl looked at lunch? What we are saying is we did see. And what did we do? We acted blind, and we moved on.

when you break someone's heart, you also break your own.

but I have lived with myself for too many years. I know exactly how hard I am.

despite all the thoughts that run through your head, you're never really ready to let go, are you?

hours cannot measure what I feel. housed inside me like a caged tiger. how strange it feels to talk about it. how was I planning to get through this alone?

I do not cry. I have had enough of that. I speak these words as a way of controlling them instead of telling me everything is okay, instead of wallowing and saying life sucks.

realizing she is going to pretend I am not here reaping, rebuffing, redrawing, reflecting, regarding, regressing, rehearsing, reiterating, reliving, remembering, reopening, repaying, repealing, replying, retracing, returning, revoking.

right at this moment, I cannot imagine it being any worse. right here, I have been turned into nothing. Right now, I am negated.

the life you lead can be detoured. the moment you know cannot be taken back.

the opportunity has passed. the past is inopportune. the question all grow from why. the reality will always be contended. the sadness will ebb. the trouble is the time it might take. the ugly words cannot be erased, only discredited. the versions are never the same. the wonder is that we make it through. the x is the unknown variable. the yesterday cannot be repeated. the zenith is the point when you look down and realize you're no longer below.

he says, you'll get through this. you live each day one at a time. you live every day all at once. you live with the possibility of good-bye. you move on. you ponder in this darkness and see you're not alone. you realize you never felt alone. you subtracted one from your life, that's all.

your heart is not as broken as you think, he says. you're not as dumb as you look, I reply.

He wanted to be strong, because in this world you have to be.

She wasn't just lost in space. She was space itself. Waiting to disappear.

I felt alone again, with so many question and no one to ask. I found that with love, you need someone to talk to about it.

What's lonelier than being on a team where you no longer belong?

To get something, you must give something away. To hold something, you must give something away. To love something, you must give something away.

Instead of turning the page I just start writing on the desk. All that open surface. Right there. Nobody notices. Nobody cares. The words just start to fall there. And I feel some satisfaction from that. I've never written just for myself. And I've never written for anyone else. I write for the release of it. For finding out what will be there when I am done.

THERE IS NO MEASURE TO VOLATILITY. VOLATILITY. VOLATILITY. COMMISERATE WITH THE COMMON. COMMISERATE. YOU ARE UNABLE TO COMMISERATE. YOU ARE HAPPY EVEN IF YOU ARE AFRAID TO ADMIT IT. YOU ARE FOOLISH IN YOUR HAPPINESS. I KNOW THIS IS NOT A SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE THING TO DO. YOU ARE NOT WHAT YOU BELIEVE YOU ARE. YOU WEAR TOO MANY MASKS. PLEASE. PLEASE. YOU SHOULD NOT HIDE. GIVE HER A CHANCE. YOU SHOULD NOT WALK AWAY QUITE YET. PLEASE. PROTECT ME FROM WHAT I WANT. LIVE UP TO YOURSELF. COWARDICE. DESPAIR IS NOT THE ANSWER. YOU ARE IMPLICATED.

I write YOU ARE HAPPY EVEN IF YOU ARE AFRAID TO ADMIT IT. And it make sense. Because how many times have I heard everyone complaining and complaining and complaining? As if sitting back and acknowledging that things aren't all that bad is somehow wrong. Then I write YOU ARE FOOLISH IN YOUR HAPPINESS.

You were Alice, I was the Hatter. You were the sun, I wasn't even the moon.

I believe in having a code of ethics, and mine was basically: If you jerk me around, then I will jerk you right back, harder.

I tried to be a vigiliant person. Keeping watch, confronting people with the truth, even if it hurt them.

I felt foolish, yes. Foolish because I felt alone in this. How may times had I told someone The truth hurts. Without ever really knowing what it fell like.

Being a bitch is easy. It's finding the alternative that's hard.

I should talk to him. I know I should talk to him but I do not talk to him. I watch him afar and love him.

Here's what I know about the realm of possibility—it is always expanding, it is never what you think it is. Everything around us was once deemed impossible.

As hard as it is for us to see sometimes, we all exist within the realm of possibility. Most of the limits are for own world's devising. And yet, every day we each do so many things that we once impossible to us.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

P.S. If you wonder about the all up or low caps... Well, it is how the book is.

Kenapa sih?

Kenapa sih doyan banget ngurusin hidup orang kayak gak punya hidup sendiri aja?
Mind your own-fockin-business, people.

Kenapa sih doyan banget nyeritain tentang urusan atau hidup orang ke orang lain seakan lo tau seluruh cerita hidupnya?
Here's my rule: No one can ever tell any-shit about me, except my own self. No one. Wait a minute. Boleh deng. TAPI. Sebaiknya, under my confirmation. Dan harus it-is-what-it-is. Gak dilebih-lebihin, gak dikurang-kurangin. Dan penyampaiannya gak usah paralel. Kenapa? Cerita mulut-ke-mulut tuh suka ada dustanya. Nggak ngerti lah pokoknya. Ujung-ujungnya semacam ada di infortaiment televisi lokal yang apa-apa di lebayin.
And this is what I hate the most! Misal: Gue bilang, "Gue mau ranking 1 ah nanti pas semester 2." And then, a douche hear it and spread it to the world like, "Eh si Dinda katanya mau ranking 1 nanti semester 2." Ada 2 kemungkinan yang mungkin terlintas dibenak orang-orang yang ngedengernya. SATU. Orang yang berpositif-thinking yang ngersponnya dengan, "Oh iya? Wah, syukur sih kalau gitu, ya semoga aja beneran kecapai blablabla...." Dan gue bersyukur banget kalau emang responnya gitu adanya. Ucapan adalah doa, no? Tapi, DUA. Orang yang looking-down on people who will respond it with their own mind, "Alah, omong doang palingan. Impossible kalau dia leha-leha gitu mah." Man, SHUT THE HELL UP! Frankly, I don't really mind about what other people saying about me. But again. Ucapan adalah doa. Secara nggak langsung mereka tuh ngedoain gue, gitu... Dan seakan mereka tau banget gitu tentang rencana guenya gimana. Again, shut it. Makanya, kalau gue cerita sesuatu yang personal, I just tell it to a certain of people. Dan 'certain of people' itu bisa keitung jari, keknya. Yang bener-bener bisa gue percaya that they will shut their mouth to keep it just for them. Langka banget emang nemuin orang kek gitu tuh.

Kenapa sih harus ribet? Ribet? Tinggalin. Gitu doang kok repot.

Kenapa sih harus ngada-ngada dan aneh?
My other rule: If I shut my mouth up, then it is. I say nothing. So please don't make any-kind-of-statement-like-I-said-something. If you question things to me and I shut up, there is two possibilities. First, I think that what you asked to me is a rhetorical question. Second, I know in fact that you'll find the answer SOON, cause the answer is RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE. Don't be a lazy-bastard, yo!

Kenapa sih berasumsi-negatif seakan-akan yang lo asumsiin tuh bener?
Yang namanya asumsi itu ya perkiraan. Bukan kenyataan. Belum tentu bener. Jadi ya mending diem aja.

Kenapa sih semua orang nggak bisa ikutin rule kayak Will Grayson; 1. Don't care too much, 2. Shut up?
Kenapa?

Kenapa sih gak semua orang sadar akan tanggung jawabnya masing-masing?
Ngebebanin tanggung jawabnya ke orang lain seakan orang lain itu nggak punya tanggung jawab yang harus dia jalanin? Life will be more easy sufficient if people DO recognize what things that they have to do, no?

Kenapa sih orang nganggap kalau sesuatu yang baik buat seseorang itu berarti sesuatu itu baik buat semua orang?
Melek coba. Nggak semua yang baik bagi seseorang itu baik buat semua orang. Contoh simple? Morphin. Buat orang yang sakit keras itu baik, tentu. Tapi jelas, itu tuh nggak baik buat orang yang nggak kenapa-napa.

I don't get....

I don't know. Yes, maybe I'm an alien from Jupiter or somewhere cause sometimes I feel like I don't  want to talk with people. Some people. Annoying people.

Masih banyak kenapa-sih-kenapa-sih-lainnya yang saat ini gue lupa. Post ini kayaknya bakalan terus nambah.
Nada postannya judes? Emang. Biarin. Masalah? Bodo amat, ah. ( ˘˘̯)
Blame it to my bad-morning;