A/N: A letter for Quentin, from Margo, sent three years after she leaves

Disclaimer: The ideas, characters and references all belong to John Green. The writing and main Idea of a the letter is mine.

Dear Quentin,

It's Margo, I bEt You remember me. How Could yOu not? I've been told I'm prEtty memorable.

It's been threE years Since we'Ve last spokeN In person, and I really want to Know how your life is going. Is eVerything working out the wAy you expected it to? It isn't for me.

I tried, Q, I reaLLy tried. I got A job at a local conVenience store for a little while. It payed for Food anD all that good stuff. I wrote and I explored, Just like I said I would. But Its nOT what I Expected. I knOw yoU're probAbly getting settled in Your third year of coLLegE, BUt I need to Know: WaS iT worth it?

I Got SUcked back in, Q. I tried but the Paper TownS have pAper traps and IM ensnared. It seems Like TheRE Really is nO escapE. I LiVe in an Apartment nOw and I'm consIDering going to cOlleGE..

I nEEd to know if It was WORth it. Getting a ProPER jOB. Living a proper life.

I can't focus on the equality of capitalization right now.

Are you happy? I want to be happy. I don't want to be a mindless paper person like everyone else, but I do want happiness. I thought I would find it on my own, out there in the world, exploring and leaving my mark. I was wrong. It was a childish fantasy. But we need more "childish" in this world, don't you think? Its what keeps dreams alive. Its what keeps people staring at the sky and contemplating its endlessness. So in the end it wasn't such a bad thing.

You aren't a paper person. You live among them in your paper town, but you are the most real person left on this earth. I honestly wish I was more like you. You do paper things like getting a job and going to college. You probably have a girlfriend and are going to settle down soon. You do all of this, every day, yet you are still real.

You said you wanted to be like me, but its more lonely then you think, floating around above the paper cities. You are everything I want to be, but I also don't want to lose me. The me you tried to decipher. The me that I can't explain, but I think you are the only person who understands. That girl is me, and I am living in a paper city, far away from your paper town, wondering if there was something I could have done differently. I never could have stayed there, you know why.

The detective, that was always on my disappearance cases, had a point in saying that I was a balloon. He gave me that stupid speech the second time I came back, but now I get it. I've always pictured the cracks in the ship, like I told you, the pieces that don't fit together. That was why I had to leave. But his metaphor makes sense as well.

Me and all the other balloons seek freedom, that was the one thing he missed. He viewed it as a bunch of balloons that had to come down, but he never considered the fact that everyone is different. Its like I'm in my own sky. A single balloon that wants to come down but can't. You understand that, don't you? I want to come down, but I can't do that without losing my sense of self. I've spent my whole life trying to fly away, above the paper people, and now that I wish I could become one of them, I can't.

Its fake, its all fake, but its better then having nothing.

I feel like a fallen angel in a city of mortals. I feel so different and alone.

I'm unhappy, but somehow thats better then being empty and controlled.

Don't let anyone break your strings, only you can do that.

Don't fly too high, Icarus, or you will crash into the sun and burn like I did.

I'm always burning, but then maybe I can set my paper city on fire.

You are the only real person left,

But your paper town is thousands of miles away from my paper city.

Stay real for me,

Margo Roth Spiegelman