I'm comfortable saying that every now and then something makes me cry. The last time I cried was about a month ago, in the midst of a six hour drive.

Two months ago I found out I would be spending the summer interning at a company in the heart of California's Silicon Valley– just shy of four hundred miles from my parents' house. About a week before my drive, after I had set up living arrangements with my aunt and uncle, my thoughts shifted toward what I would do to occupy my mind during my trek up the coast. Normally I pass time on drives by working on my Drake impression (It's a pretty good one). But one can only emulate the Canadian superstar for so long before growing tired of it. I realized that I didn't want to deal with radio frequencies that change county by county and that listening to the same music I heard day in and day out didn't sound like the ideal way to spend my time. So what, then, was I to do? The hottest ticket at the time was the one that got you into the theatre to see The Fault in Our Stars, the successful adaptation of the John Green novel.

Both the novel and the film are wildly popular with young adults and, wouldn't you know it, I just so happen to be one of those. So of course I had an obligation to my country and my people to watch this film. But, as I was told, it would be a crime to see the movie without first reading the book. It was decided then that I would read the book on my drive. But of course that was a terrible idea for the risk of car sickness was just too much. What was I to do? There was always the option of listening to the audio book on the drive. I guess I could do that, I thought, but then what separates me from my mom. My inner monologue had a point, if I started listening to audio books now, it wouldn't be long until my mother and I were discussing the latest James Patterson “thriller.” After promising myself that Mr. Patterson would not become something my mom and I had in common, I decided to give the audiobook a shot. After all, I was never going to make time to read the book on my own and this was the perfect opportunity to catch up on pop culture. I downloaded the audiobook as well as a few others– just in case this cavalcade of emotions turned out to be too much. So with my bags packed I said goodbye to my parents and began my journey.

  As it turned out, it was not a physical journey, but an emotional one on which I was embarking. And one that I wasn't quite ready for. From chapter one I was engrossed in the stories of Hazel Grace Lancaster and Augustus Waters. Their snarky humor and cynical, cancer inspired perspectives appealed to me in a way that I had never come to expect from literature. Hours passed as their relationship developed. While Hazel became attached to Augustus and his aloof ways, I did too. I'm not going to spoil the story for those who continue to hold out as I did, because you will come around eventually and you'll be so glad that you did. What I will say, though, is that I formed a legitimate bond with these characters. Their happiness became mine, as did their strife. I laughed with them– I felt pain when they did. Alright, maybe I'm being dramatic, but I did get into this story. So when it began to wind down (and that is to say that it started to come to a close, not that it was less interesting), I felt a profound sadness. I had never before been the one to cry at a movie and certainly never a book. This story changed that. As I sped down the freeway, I broke down. I cried like a baby and it felt amazing. I realized how dangerous it was to be a 65 MPH emotional wreck, so I began to pull over only to realize that I was at my exit. I had been so invested in the plight of these characters that my trip had flown by. I was five short minutes away from my aunt and uncle's house but each minute closer to their house was a minute further from the story of the two star-crossed lovers suffering from a terrible case of existence. The audio book ended with notes from the author as I arrived at my destination– heartbroken but satisfied. It was a challenging experience, but one that I would gladly experience again. I had felt a range of emotion that I had never really considered possible for myself and I feel as though I'm a better person for having experienced it. It sounds ridiculous, I'm sure, but I don't think you can really know yourself until you know what it takes to make you cry. So thank you, John Green, for helping me to understand myself.