First you look so strong, then you fade away.

The sun will blind my eyes, but I'll love you anyway.

So its four in the morning, and I've finally finished reading Perks. A book, that despite it's non-existent length, has taken me five months to finish. I read zen in just about a week. People change.

I should start this by saying that I really hope no one reads this. This being my post, not the book. If you're anything like me, I suggest you read it. Its weird. An Amazon review said that this book was essentially an extreme of characters, saying that none of this is plausible. I don't agree. I just think its how Charlie recorded what he saw, and extremes grow from normalcy. Cliques work in a special way, that they don't breed friendship, they either breed contempt or kinship.

I digress.

I really don't know what to say. Charlie was molested and became a psychologically repressed turtle. I don't think it is fair to cut down anything that Charlie felt to event. I don't think its fair to cut him down as a character really. That is, because there is a little Charlie in all of us.

It makes the time he spent with Mary Elizabeth make a lot less sense, considering what happened with Sam. Though, maybe it was love that maybe the truth about his existence actually surface in his brain. He really did love is Aunt, though he didn't really understand what she did to him, and it was her fault, but it wasn't. As Vonnegut said, "I was a victim of a series of accidents as are we all"

I think that the strength in Charlie was also his major flaw, he needed to support others to feel love. I think that is the result of molestation. Then again, I'm not a psychotherapist.


Here is the part that I relate myself to Charlie, in a masturbatory way, so if you want to see my ego get stroked in a manic-depressive fashion, read on, if not, skip this. Comma splices are a tool too.


I made this blog before I read perks. Though, in essence, it served a lot of the same purpose. It shared my life with strangers, because it was something that felt right. It was something that I had to do. I don't care what happened, I shared it. I was sad. I was happy. I was heartbroken. I saw my life slip through my fingers, to catch it again. I shared my highs and lows. Mostly my lows, because lets be honest, why would you want to read about anyone be happy, if you hadn't read about them being sad. These posts are my letters. You are my anonymous reader, even if you aren't that anonymous sometimes.

There will always be something worse. Something better, but something worse.

I've had my fair share of "Sams and Patricks," and I think that everyone does. Introverts especially, they like to cling to a small clique of extremely tight and loyal friends.

I used to compare myself to a Holden Caulfield, which is still fair. I really think it was fair anyway. I was brash. I didn't give the slightest glimpse of a fuck. Apathy reigns supreme in a time of ambition.

I don't think a lot of this will make sense to anyone that either doesn't know me, or doesn't understand where I'm at in my life. Or frankly anyone for that matter, I'm tired and I'm rambling.

Why in the fucking world wouldn't I write about turning 20, instead of a silly book. I'm 20 years old.

If you want to talk with me about the book, I really want to talk with you.

I could easily quote the best line of the book here.
Wesley