“I walk around the school hallways and look at the people. I look at the teachers and wonder why they’re here. Not in a mean way. In a curious way. It’s like looking at all the students and wondering who’s had their heart broken that day…or wondering who did the heart breaking and wondering why.”
I am evidently one of the last people in existence to actually bother reading The Perks of Being A Wallflower, but I’ll try do it justice. It’s entirely composed of letters from Charlie, the shy, intelligent, socially awkward freshman, battling between being in the background of life, or ‘participating’, as he’s been urged to do.
From first dates, mix tapes, ‘sexy, drugs, and The Rocky Horror Picture Show’, this is the coming of age story that everyone, upon finding out I was reading it these last two days, has either gasped in excitement, or questioned how it had taken me so long.
I can’t really do it justice because a) it’s so well-known so it’s been done thousands of times before since its release, and b) I wasn’t expecting it in the slightest.
You know when you’re really, really sad and you read a book (and it happens to be this one) and you just feel weird? I don’t know if it’s good weird, I don’t know if it’s bad weird, it might even be a little bit of both. But all I know is I kind of love this book unlike 99.9999% others; in fact, scratch that.
I love Harry Potter because of its relevance to my childhood, I love Ready Player One because I had read nothing like it and thought it was completely unique and excellent. I love this because, I don’t know, maybe it was just the perfect book to read when you’re having a shitty time with life. I think that’s it. I don’t know. I’m rambling.
Does that make sense? What books do that for you?