The sequel fucking ruined it.
Goddamn, let me believe in fairy tale endings. Jesus tapdancing Christ.
It's just as well written, just as gripping, but less charming and for me had the opposite effect of what the author wanted. Maybe that's an indictment of me and my psyche. I don't really care because its three in the fucking morning and I feel fucking robbed. Betrayed.
I think I'm going to throw up. I am outraged. I have never felt this way about a piece of media before: not a movie, game, book, record, anything. If I had a physical copy of this book I would fucking burn it. I wish I could obliterate the last five hours out of my mind.
This is unlike Gus or Alaska dying in John Green books. This...is so much worse than that. Forman justifies it by...I don't even fucking know. Adam wanted Mia not to die so she didn't and she's angry at him because its hard to be a sole survivor even though her life is peaches now and she's happy as shit and Adam's life has become nothing but drug abuse and an inability to connect with people in spite of his bands success and somehow he's the bad guy? When she's the one who broke off all contact with him?
I mean, I want happily ever after to exist, because it doesn't happen in real life so I want my fiction to reflect that, except when it's obviously going to be dark. And this isn't dark.