Every time a movie starts by telling me that it's not a movie, I die a little inside.

Every time Augustus Waters (hint: people don't have names like this in real life) put one of his stupid metaphor cigarettes in his mouth (which I swear was at least every other scene), I lost a year of my life.

When Gus and Hazel Grace Lancaster (come on) make out in the Anne Frank House and the room full of old people slow clap for them, I actually died for two minutes before hell spat me back out because watching the rest of this movie was actually worse than eternal damnation.