Okay, meant to post this days ago, but I didn't have internet connection. So, here...



I just finished re-reading one of my favourite books--The Perks of Being a Wallflower. And once again, I was reminded of why it's in my list of favourites. This books always takes me on an emotional rollercoaster ride I'm not quite prepared for.

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"I guess what I'm trying to say is that this all feels very familiar. But it's not mine to be familiar about. I just know that another kid has felt this. This one time when it's peaceful outside, and you're seeing things move, and you don't want to, and everyone is asleep. And all the books you've read have been read by other people. And all the songs you've loved have been heard by other people. And that girl that's pretty to you is pretty to other people. And you know that if you looked at these facts when you were happy, you would feel great because you are describing 'unity'.

It's like when you are excited about a girl and you see a couple holding hands, and you feel so happy for them. And other times you see the same couple, and they make you so mad. And all you want is to always feel happy for them because you know that if you do, then it means you're happy, too."

This feeling is something that resonates within me. Sometimes, when I like a band and I finally find someone who likes them as well, I get excited. But when everyone starts liking that band, a part of me is bitter. And it's not that I don't want them to be famous or successful, but I feel like that band isn't just mine anymore, even though it was never mine to begin with. But when people had no clue who they were, at least it was easier to pretend, you know? That I was the only one who slept listening to their music at night.

But if I go to a concert to watch that band, and I see hundreds of people mouthing the lyrics to their music, I'd feel happy, the kind of happy that starts from deep within me and spreads upwards. And I don't really know why it's any different. It's not. But I guess I'm a different person each time. Once a sad person, and once a happy one.

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"And I thought about how many people have loved these songs. And how many people got through a lot of bad times because of those songs. And how many people enjoyed good times with those songs. And how much those songs really mean. I think it would be great to have written one of those songs. I bet if I wrote one of them, I would be very proud. I hope the people who wrote those songs are happy. I hope they feel it's enough. I really do because they've made me happy."

It's funny how each song holds a different meaning for every person. The song someone listens to motivate them before an exam is the same song I listen to when I'm sad. The song someone listens to after they go through a break up is the same song I listen to when I'm vacuuming my floor and feel like dancing. So the thing is...is there such a thing as what a song really means? Because in the end, it only means as much as what the person listening to it wants it to mean.

But I do think about the people who wrote the songs I love sometimes. What were they going through when they wrote it? Was it just an idea randomly bouncing around their head, or did it really come from deep within their heart because of a tough time they were going through? Most of the lyrics that I've written don't actually have any real meaning for me. The words sound good when they're run together and the rhythm is nice, so I write, and the atmosphere of the song changes with my mood. But I guess it's different for everyone.

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"I don't understand that. I would give someone a record so they could love the record, not so they would always know that I gave it to them."

There was once when I was wrapping up my gifts for Teachers' Day, and I'd labels on each and every one with their names on it, so I'd know whom each gift belonged to. And my dad told me that I should write my own name on it, too. And when I asked "why?", he looked at me like I'd asked the stupidest question in the world. But writing my name honestly seemed so unimportant at that point. It still does.

I think the problem is that most people buy gifts for the sake of buying gifts. But the point of gifts are to make the person who receives them happy. I wish people would remember that.

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And you know, if you read Perks of Being a Wallflower in one sitting, you'll realize that Charlie thinks about how he'll treat his kids a lot. And I think the kind of guy I could love is the kind of guy who could think about his kids. Not really his future or his career or his girl, but his kids. And no, he wouldn't try to make them fit into a mold; he wouldn't imagine them as a doctor or a lawyer or an engineer, but just as his kid. A guy who wants to make his kids happy and make them feel like they're the most special thing in the world--he's special too, I think.

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The Perks of Being a Wallflower reminds me of another book, where the main character says that maybe when god creates people, he writes things like "happy" or "pretty" on their hearts. And that he wrote "sad" on his. I don't know why I always love these kind of books the most. I guess when I read a chick lit or something, I feel happy for the characters from a very third-person point of view. But when I read angst books, I really, really feel happy when everything turns out well.

I think if god does write on hearts, he wrote "fake" on mine. Because I never really say things as they are. I reach a point where I genuinely believe things are as I want them to be. I wish I was happy, and so I am. But mostly it's a temporary kind of happiness. It's easier to pretend things are okay when people are around. Like at school. But when I get home I realize how lonely I am. And I'm not just talking about being here in India either. Even back in Singapore, there used to be times when I thought about how fucked-up things were and I wished everything would just go away.

But what I tell myself is that a normal life isn't any more happy than a fucked-up one. You can't smile if you haven't cried.
So it's okay. But I need to change. I need to cry when I feel like crying and scream when I feel like screaming. I wish I could let myself do that. It seems so simple and yet that part of me, that part of people that just lets them do whatever they feel like, it's become numb because I've shut it away for so long.

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I got tired of sitting here reading Perks of Being a Wallflower on my laptop (I hate ebooks, but it's not like I've much of a choice now), so I went up to the terrace. That's the nice thing about houses here. No apartments. Every house has a terrace. And it's nice because whenever I'm sick of being in the dark and not looking at any trees, I can just go up there. Without having to worry about what I'm wearing or how my hair looks, because there'll be no one up there to see me.

Well, that wasn't always true. There was a boy. About a year or two ago. He was in the house right next to us, so close you could almost jump over. My cousin asked me not to go up to terrace anymore, not alone, anyway. Show of hands, how many of you think I'd have listened?

I did go up, and I did see him. To begin with, I love the terrace, especially during November and December when the weather is cold and it gets dark faster. But it was nice seeing him. He was really good-looking, in a sad kind of way. Like he's gone through a lot. We both used to pace back and forth, pretending the only reason we were there wasn't to look at each other. I never talked to him or asked around for his name. Sometimes, it's just nice to know that someone really sees you, and is standing under the same sky that you are.

I didn't know anything about him. I don't know if he dropped out of school or if he's in college now. It's funny how sometimes you remember people you saw only a few days without talking to at all, when you can't even remember your own classmate of two years. I'm dead serious about the last part, by the way. It was after 'O' Levels, maybe around January, and I'd a new friend request on facebook. I saw the name and it seemed familiar, so I looked at the profile picture. I looked and looked and looked, for almost two whole minutes. And then I realized that, holy shit, that's my sec 4 classmate. I felt bad for a while after that. I mean, it's true that she always kind of blended into the background, but I was surprised I could've forgotten someone that easily, and it scared me.

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"It's just that I don't want to be somebody's crush. If somebody likes me, I want them to like the real me, not what they think I am. And I don't want them to carry it around inside. I want them to show me, so I can feel it, too. I want them to be able to do whatever they want around me."

Easier said than done, I think. Sometimes the reason I can't show it is because I don't think the person I like would want me to. And I don't want to put them in a spot or make them feel uncomfortable, you know what I mean? I'd rather just watch them be happy from a distance. That's what Charlie did, too.

But, having said that, if someone had a crush on me and never told me about it, then...I guess I'd feel the same way as Sam. It's strange how sometimes you can go months without noticing someone even though they know every little detail about you, things that aren't even important, things you don't tell anyone. Because you're always thinking of that one person who makes your heart beat fast, and you forget. You forget that maybe you're the only thing on someone else's mind, too.

But I don't know if everyone is like Sam and me. If someone had a crush on you, would you want to know? Even if it's someone you make fun of? Or worse, someone you find irritating? Someone you've never really liked?

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"I love Twinkies, and the reason I am saying that is because we are all supposed to think of reasons to live."

This one stuck out to me because it reminded me of Zombieland. Meh, probably the Zombieland writers nicked the idea from here :B

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"She said that only seventy percent of marriages stay together when they lose a child."

I remember talking about this with a friend, and she said it's because the husband would usually blame the wife, or the wife would feel guilty about it, as if it was her fault. I'm not saying this doesn't happen at all, but I've a feeling there's much more to it than that. I think when you've gone through such a rough patch in your life, you'll want to get away from every single person who was around you at that time, because they're just a reminder of everything that happened.

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"I think that if I ever have kids, and they are upset, I won't tell them that people are starving in China or anything like that because it wouldn't change the fact that they were upset. And even if somebody else has it much worse, that doesn't really change the fact that you have what you have. Good and bad."

This one, I don't really have comments about. I just wanted to let you guys read it because I agree wholeheartedly.

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There was this particular scene in the book that made me cry. See, there's Patrick and Brad. And the first time they make out is at a party when they're both drunk, and the next day Brad pretends he can't remember anything at all. But this happens at the next party, and the party after that. And it goes on like that--Brad keeps getting drunk and wasted so he can fuck around with Patrick while having an excuse for it, because he can't even admit to himself that that's what he really wants. And Patrick realizes how fucked up everything is and tells Brad's parents about how wasted he is all the time (while leaving out the details about their sexual relationship, duh) and they send him to rehab. Brad comes back at the end of summer, throws rocks at Patrick's window (because, yes, he really does kind of love Patrick), and tells him that he wants to continue where they left off (completely sober this time), except it had to be a secret.

And Charlie, he mentions, "I asked Patrick if he felt sad that he had to keep it a secret, and Patrick just said that he wasn't sad because at least now, Brad doesn't have to get drunk or stoned to make love."

That's when I began crying. Because it's not fair. I'm not saying Brad is completely innocent or that it's okay for him to hurt Patrick. But it's not fair that he lives in a world where the only way he can allow himself to love the person he wants is if he's not sober. It's not fair that he lives in a world where his dad would hit him with a belt over and over again if he ever found out (which does happen later on in the book). I'm not saying it was justified for Brad to come to school after that and call Patrick a faggot. Brad was being a dick. But why did people have to drive him to that in the first place.



I mean, honestly, it's not even about prop 8 or gay rights. It's about equality. Why can't you just leave two people who love each other alone. What gives anyone the right to tell someone who they should talk to or sleep with.

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Aside from everything I already mentioned about, this book discusses abuse and the willingness to be abused (a stockholm syndrome of sorts) several times. There's one quote I like a lot: "We accept the love we think we deserve." (To put it into context: Charlie's sister keeps bullying her boyfriend until the day he hits her, and then suddenly she gives in to everything he says and believes that she loves him.)

Usually, it's hard for a book to take even one theme and send across the intended message clearly, but this book circles around several themes at once, and when you reach the last page, you really do feel enlightened. You might not gain anything from it in the sense that you might not even change as a person, but at least you'll gain a new favourite book. I read it about 2-3 years ago, and I think that's the perfect time to read it. When you're in the middle of high school and you're still not even halfway there to figuring out who you are as a person.

I've a feeling that if I read this book ten years later, I might not even understand why I liked it so much. It's the fact that you're at this age and you're in this mood and you're going through these things that make it so likeable. But maybe that's what's special about the book. I think everyone should read it before their teenage years are over, at least.

Because trust me when I say, for a moment after reading it, you'll feel infinte. And there's no feeling that can beat that.