I just finished reading
The Perks of Being a Wallflower for the second time. And I cannot help myself thinking that this book might be inspired by
The Catcher in the Rye, which to be honest, couldn't be related much to my personal preference. I knew what happened to Holden but I didn't care much. I barely remembered any words except 'phony' that he kept using throughout the entire book. On the contrary, I felt and understood every single word Charlie wrote in his letters. Guessed I preferred the quiet person to the loud one because just hearing myself talking every day was annoying enough.
"Is there any guy who be like Charlie?"
This question popped up in my mind for a hundred times. Is there any? I never knew any men who made me feel the same way as I did with Charlie. Shy, genuine, sensitive, thoughtful, and kind, no, not a single soul I have ever known in my life.
Damn, I am critically missing you.
I still remembered that night. It's mid-April when the heat never stopped bothering us with her merciless power. We walked down the street to the parking lot after spending the whole evening with shopping at the Walking Street. I was complaining about the weather as usual when summer was too summer. He squeezed my hands in his firmly and laughed whole-heartedly because of my stupid jokes.
I love when we share our stupid sense of humour.
As we passing the dark corner of the street, I promptly stopped my steps. Seeing something with familiar shape lying still on the pavement, I noticed that it was a male fully grown-up cat, anonymous.
"Hey, it's a cat." I turned to him and declared cheerfully.
"Why is he here?" He replied in the joyous voice. He kneed down to look closely at the cat meaning to touch his fur. But, suddenly, he froze the motion and the smile faded from his face.
"What's wrong?" Slightly alarmed, I broke the silence quietly.
He stood up not looking at me. His voice slipped through his pale lips so softly that almost like a whisper. "He's dead."
As I said it's a dark corner of the street, the only thing that gave light is the distant electric post. Even so, the darkness seemed so bright compared to his emotion. Anonymous cats were never considered as strangers to him.
I touched his arms and moved closer to him. His sadness filled the air like the rain showering hard. I couldn't find any words to comfort, so I just hugged him tightly. He was silent for the whole travel back to our place.
"I need to play a song for that dead cat." He reached out to his best buddy, red Fender Standard Stratocaster.
I just sat there and watched him improvised the melody I never heard of. His back looked like an opened door welcoming me to the world of his own. I looked intensively at his back as I stepped into that door feeling the warmth inside it.
This is why I love sad songs.
To him, music seems more sensible and reachable than words.
"In my mind, I saw that cat playing in the field. At least, he was free from this cruel world." He turned to me and put his guitar down.
"Are you alright?"
"Of course, we are alright, both sadness and me." He smiled warmly and opened his arms widely.
Unconsciously, my tears fell down and my body shook a little and a little harder. Five minutes later, I found myself crying like a baby in his arms and finally realised how sad I was.
"Don't hold your tears. I know you hurt. I know you're soft. You love sad songs for a reason." He gently touched my face and looked deeply into my eyes. "With me, you can be vulnerable as much as you like."
Is there any guy who be like Charlie?
I think I found one.
---You know I wrote this for you.---
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