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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.

Bridget who is crazy said that sometimes she thought about suicide when commercials come on during
TV. She was sincere and this puzzled the guidance counselors.

Some kids look at me strange in the hallways because I don't decorate my locker, and I'm the one who beat up
Sean and couldn't stop crying after he did it. I guess I'm pretty emotional.

• "Do you always think this much, Charlie?" "Is that bad?" "Not necessarily. It's just that sometimes
people use thought to not participate in life." "Is that bad?" "Yes."
It's strange because sometimes, I read a book, and I think I am the people in the book.
Do you know what 'masturbation' is? I think you probably do because you are older than me. But just in
case, I will tell you. Masturbation is when you rub your genitals until you have an orgasm. Wow!
"We accept the love we think we deserve."
"I hate you." "I love you." "You're a freak, you know that? Everyone says so. They always have." "I'm
trying not to be."
When the police came, they found my brother asleep on the roof. Nobody knows how he got there.

"I feel infinite."


Bob started passing around food. "Would you like a brownie?" "Yes. Thank you." -- I ate the brownie, and it
tasted a little weird, but it was still a brownie, so I still liked it. But this was not an ordinary brownie. Since you
are older, I think you know what kind of brownie it was.

"He's a wallflower."
... And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.
Patrick actually used to be popular before Sam bought him some good music.
I have decided that maybe I want to write when I grow up. I just don't know what I would write.
I guess I could tell people about Punk Rocky and walking home from school and things like that. Maybe
these are my glory days, and I'm not even realizing it because they don't involve a ball.
I am very interested and fascinated by how everyone loves each other, but no one really likes each other.
My other cousin has been wanting to go back to college for around seven years.

I hope it's the kind of second side that he can listen to whenever he drives
alone and feel like he belongs to something whenever he's sad. I hope it
can be that for him.
I really think that everyone should have watercolors, magnetic poetry, and a harmonica.
Sam and Patrick looked at me. And I looked at
them. And I think they knew. Not anything specific
really. They just knew. And I think that's all you can
ever ask from a friend.
I think it was the first time in my life I ever felt like I looked "good". Do you know what I mean? That
nice feeling when you look in the mirror, and your hair's right for the first time in your life? I don't think
we should base so much on weight, muscles, and a good hair day, but when it happens, it's nice. It really
is.

I walked over to the hill where we used to go and sled. There were a lot of
little kids there. I watched them flying. Doing jumps and having
races. And I thought that all those little kids are going to grow up
someday. And all of those little kids are going to do the things that we
do. And they will all kiss someone someday. But for now, sledding is
enough. I think it would be great if sledding were always enough, but
it isn't.
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. Well, sometimes, I can do that, but I don't need an hour in front of a mirror.
It just happens very fast, and things start to slip away. 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'm just thinking too fast-- much too fast.
I don't like my birthday. I don't like it at all.
I felt so sad. I didn't know what was going on.
I love my mom. And this time, I told her I loved her. And she told me she loved me,
too. And things were okay for a little while.
"Please, don't do this to yourself, Charlie." But I did do it to myself. Like I do every year on my
birthday.
"But there's another difference between you and her. You see...
Kelly believes in women's rights so much that she would never let
a guy hit her. I guess I can't say that about you." I swear to
God, we almost died.
Little kids talk about the strangest things. They really do.
I laid down on his old bed, and I looked through the window at this tree that was probably a lot shorter
when my dad looked at it. And I could feel what he felt on the night when he realized that if he didn't
leave, it would never be his life. It would be theirs. At least that's how he's put it.
... My aunt Helen was definitely killed instantly. In other words, there was no pain. There was no
pain anymore.
I don't really know what happened next, and I never really asked. I just remember going to the hospital. I
remember sitting in a room with bright lights. I remember a doctor asking me questions. I remember
telling him how Aunt Helen was the only one who hugged me. I remember seeing my family on
Christmas day in a waiting room. I remember not being allowed to go to the funeral. I remember never
saying good-bye to my Aunt Helen.
I don't know how long I kept going to the doctor. I don't remember how long they kept me
out of school. It was a long time. I know that much.
I have to stop writing now because I am too sad.
I even made her a mix tape and left it at the grave. I hope you do not think that makes me weird.

I don't want to start thinking again. Not like I have this last week.
I can't think again. Not ever again.
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.
Everyone else is either asleep or having sex. I've been watching cable television and eating jello.

Sometimes, I look outside, and I think that a lot of other people


have seen this snow before. Just like I think that a lot of other
people have read those books before. And listened to those songs.

I wonder how they feel tonight.


But the thing is that I can hear Sam and Craig having sex, and for the first time in my life, I understand

And I never wanted to.


the end of that poem.

You have to believe me.


My mind played hopscotch. My brother... football... Brad... Dave and his girlfriend in my room... the
coats... the cold... the winter... "Autumn Leaves"... don't tell anyone... you pervert... Sam and Craig...
Sam... Christmas... typewriter... gift... Aunt Helen... and the trees kept moving... they just wouldn't stop
moving... so I laid down and made a snow angel.
The policemen found me pale blue and asleep.
I feel great! I really mean it. I have to remember this for the next time I'm having a terrible week.
I don't know. I just had a great day. I hope you did, too.
Mary Elizabeth is a vegetarian and she hates her parents. She is also fluent in Spanish.
Girls are weird, and I don't mean that offensively. I just can't put it any other way.
The people are being nicer in the hallways. Not to me necessarily, just in a general way.

Everything can't be self-esteem, can it?


"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"It's too bad you're not gay. Then again, if you were gay, I would never date you. You're a mess."
"You know, Patrick? If I were gay, I'd want to date you."
"Of course."

Something really is wrong with me.


And I don't know what it is.
I know that I brought this all on myself. I know that I deserve this. I'd do anything not to be this way. I'd
do anything to make it up to everyone. And to not have to see a psychiatrist, who explains to me about
being "passive agressive." And to not have to take the medicine he gives me, which is too expensive for
my dad. And to not have to talk about bad memories with him. Or be nostalgic about bad things.

I just wish that God or my parents or Sam or my sister or someone would just tell me what's
wrong with me. Just tell me how to be different in a way that makes sense. To make this
all go away. And disappear. I know that's wrong because it's my responsibility, and I know that things get

but this is a
worse before they get better because that's what my psychiatrist says,

worse that feels too big.


The credit for all of these quotes goes to the book's author, Stephen Chbosky.

Standing on the fringes of life...

... Offers a unique perspective.


But there comes a time to see what it looks like from the dance floor.
This haunting novel about the dilemma of passivity vs. passion marks
the stunning debut of a provocative new voice in contemporary fiction: The Perks Of
Being A

W A L L F L OW E R
This is the story of what it's like to grow up in high school.
More intimate than a diary, Charlie's letters are singular and unique,
hilarious and devastating. We may not know where he lives. We may
not know to whom he is writing. All we know is the world he shares.
Caught between trying to live his life and trying to run from it puts him
on a strange course through uncharted territory. The world of first dates
and mixed tapes, family dramas and new friends. The world of sex, drugs,
and The Rocky Horror Picture Show, when all one requires is that perfect song
on that perfect drive to feel infinite.
Through Charlie, Stephen Chbosky has created a deeply affecting
coming-of-age story, a powerful novel that will spirit you back to those wild
and poignant roller coaster days known as
growing up.

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