So, after I finished The Diary Of A Young Girl, I then read The Perks Of Being Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. And I love it. I highly love it. I SERIOUSLY LOVE IT! I finished it within 2 days cause --you know, it's pretty addicting. So this boy named Charlie... I don't know how to describe him but the thing is, I love the way he think. And of course, again, I picked some lines from the book:
So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.
The people in the photographs always seem a lot happier than you are.
The outside lights were on, and it was snowing, and it looked like magic. Like we were somewhere else. Like we were someplace better.
But now I'm trying not to think about it too much because that makes it worse. It's kind of like when you look at yourself in the mirror and you say your name. And it gets to a point where none of it seems real.
And I just open my eyes, and I see nothing. And then I start to breathe really hard trying to see something, but I can't. It doesn't happen all the time, but when it does, it scares me.
I probably shouldn't writing about this too much because it brings it up too much. It makes me think too much.
I don't know if you've ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, but I want it when I get like this. That's why I'm trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning.
I feel like a big faker because I've been putting my life back together, and nobody knows.
The problem with things is that everyone is always comparing everyone with everyone and because of that, it discredits people.
Things change. And friends leave. And life doesn't stop for anybody.
I was in my bed trying to figure out why sometimes you can wake up and go back to sleep and other times you can't.
The reason I am thinking so far in advance is because school is terribly lonely. I think I've said that before, but it's getting harder everyday.
I hope you have a very nice life because I really think you deserve it. I really do. I hope you do, too.
Maybe it's good to put things in perspective, but sometimes, I think that the only perspective is to really be there.
Okay, so, that's it. That's just it. I don't really picked many lines. And to be honest, I enjoyed the book so much. But as long as I read it, I was keep asking like, "To whom he wrote those letters?" then, when I finally reached the last page, it said, "We don't know where Charlie lives and we don't know to whom he is writing. But Charlie's haunting letters, addressed only to "Dear Friend," bring readers straight to the heart of his struggles to fit in, to find the will to "participate" in life, and to cope with the realities of the larger world as he learns how to grow up."
So yeah, I found out that no one know to whom he wrote it. But it then make me think, as I read that last page, I feel like this Charlie does exist. And if he truly exist, was that okay if Chbosky collected all the letters and made a book of it? I mean, I'm speaking about the copyrights. Or maybe, Chbosky has met Charly and he permitted him to book it? Well, it could be, I guess. But that last page says that "We don't know where Charlie lives.." So mind blowing.
But by the "fiction" label, maybe Charlie doesn't even exist. Maybe he's just a fiction character. Maybe it just Chbosky made it like Charlie is truly exist on the last page. So I don't have to mind about the copyright, like seriously.
Okay, this is brain-aching, but the thing is, if Charlie ever exist in my generation, I'd love to be friend with him. Or maybe being his best friend. And by the way, alas. Bill was right. Charlie is a special person.
Speaking of letter, I made this for Charlie. I don't really mind if he wasn't exist in a real life. Just assume that I'm a friend of Charlie who wrote him back...
Dear Charlie,
Charl, there's one thing that I wonder about "participating" in life. I mean, Bill said that we have to "participate" in life, didn't he? What if, life doesn't want us to participate? Life doesn't want us to in? Have you heard a line from Dr. Seuss who said, "Why fit in when you were born to stand out?" Have you think about it? Well, it might be end up with we're standing in nowhere, Charl...
Maybe what Bill meant was to participate in life, in the right place, and in the right time. Therefore, I don't need to think about it anymore, I guess. But how can we know that we're in the right place and in the right time? What if we feel like it's a right place and a right time but it's actually not?
I shouldn't think about it too much, should I? Okay, so, just skip this letter, and I really hope things are really good with you, Charl. And even if they're not, they will be soon enough.
Love always,
Friend
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