The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
It is now my favorite book of all time, but then again, I always think that until I read another book.
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So, what's the point of using words nobody else knows or can say comfortably? I just don't understand that.
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I get the feeling that it's all a big lie. The problem is I don't know who's lying.
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I wonder if anyone is really happy. I hope they are.
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"Do you always think this much, Charlie?"
"Is that bad?" I just wanted someone to tell me the truth.
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He got this very serious look on his face after I told him, and he said something to me I don't think I will forget this semester or ever. "Charlie, we accept the love we think we deserve."
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It's strange to describe reading a book as a really great experience, but that's kind of how it felt.
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"I would die for you. But I won't live for you."
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When I was driving home, I just thought about the word "special." And I thought the last person who said that about me was my aunt Helen. I was very grateful to have heard it again. Because I guess we all forget sometimes. And I think everyone is special in their own way. I really do.
