I’m re-reading my favorite book The Catcher in the Rye,

I even got the damn quote tattooed on me a few weeks ago.

It always gets me in my feels and I sort of go in and out of reality a bit. I do that anyways actually but I notice it more when I’ve been reading it.

 Do you ever wonder if you insulted someone but it’s over social media and you can’t be sure. Like it wasn’t intended as any sort of awkward highlight but it feels kinda crappy but also that could just be me reading into it. So Mindy if I was weird about your not antique antique looking gift. Sorry.

The Catcher is my favorite book for a lot of reasons. The main character, the pace, the language just feels like it was written for me. Which I hate saying that because it’s like this time when my sister kept saying Paris was HER city after she had backpacked for a couple of months. And it’s like every 22 year old white girl who got to travel thinks Paris is theirs. Completely un-original. And so is saying that about the book for me. But the thing is that there are a lot of people who really feel that book in their soul so it can’t be just for me.

When I was going into junior high I can remember there being literature on how girls especially will become moody and irritable and that was completely normal…nothing to worry about. So no one ever did, certainly not my parents. And I don’t think anyone cared about Holden, being young and school age, either. No one cares until you break and show them the real stuff. At least he was doing his telling from a rehab sort of place. My parents did nothing but belittle me and make me feel like shit and alone. They are complete fucks btw.

But people who are depressed and feel things too deeply, we are this book. My meds make me decide whether I want to feel everything or nothing. When I said nothing, the damn meds made my hair like straw and fall out and shit. So now I feel most things with just a little protection.

Holden would definitely worry if he fucked up over social media. It would make him hella depressed.

I can’t write fiction for shit. HOW ughhhhh fuck fuck fuck can’t make shit up in my brain!

Listen to Black Sheep by Metric but the version where Brie Larson is singing. The End. Fiction.

There are currently no comments.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.