Tuesday, December 27, 2011

the perks of being a wallflower

I'm sorry, but I have to stop this letter now. 

But first, I want to thank you for being one of those people who listens and understands and doesn't try to sleep with people even though you could have. I really mean it, and I'm sorry I've put you through this when you don't even know who I am, and we've never met in person, and I can't tell you who I am because I promised to keep all those little secrets. I just don't want you to think that I picked your name out of the phone book. It would kill me if you thought that. So, please believe me when I tell you that I felt terrible after Michael died, and I saw a girl in class, who didn't notice me, and she talked all about you to a friend of hers. And even though I didn't know you, I felt like I did because you sounded like such a good person. The kind of person who wouldn't mind receiving letters from a kid. The kind of person who would understand how they were better than a diary because there is communion and a diary can be found. I just don't want you to worry about me, or think that you've met me, or waste your time anymore. I'm so sorry that I wasted your time because you really do mean a lot to me and I hope you have a very nice life because I really think you deserve it. I really do. I hope you do, too. Okay, then. Goodbye.
Love always,
Charlie

side note: I just started reading this last night. I have no idea what page I’ve been or how long this will go since I copied this on the internet and wasn’t able to reach the end. I can’t believe this has happened. I was cut right on the part of the book where Charlie’s last words were goodbye. And I screamed. His goodbye might mean a lot of things. For some reason, I think like Charlie. He thinks a lot like I do. Weird how I always had moments of sitting alone thinking of my existence, why things kept happening, what people are doing, and what they are thinking. What I do is watch what I could see, observe things, watch details, listen and feel. I can’t talk much because it necessitates careful filtering of words. Words are best ways to express yourself. Spoken words are harsh when it comes out wrong at a wrong time. For some time, I’ve settled in writing words where few gets to read, and think. This is a habit I can’t seem to get rid off. Now I can’t tell what has happened to Charlie or what his dreams meant to him. Come theories flooding in my head and I can’t prove them without reading the entire thing. I need the entire thing right now! But I can’t because I had no internet. Frustrations come from being caught in a book and getting hanged in mid-air Charlie.

December 26, 2011 10:54 PM

>_<

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