there may be perks, but i don't like relating so much to charlie

why am i so afraid that i can't share my thoughts out loud?

i love writing in all of its forms [as i've said before] because i'm able to express my feelings unlike when i'm speaking...

i just read Stephen Chbosky's book The Perks of Being a Wallflower this last weekend. the main character is almost exactly like me [except for three differences]; it's frightening how similar we are. maybe i'm being too much of a sponge when i should be a filter, but i can't stop thinking about the message of that book.

charlie [the main character] is a wallflower. he thinks too much and it prevents him from participating. the book is about him coping with the change from junior high to high school. he's very emotional, but hardly shows it because he always thinks that "so many other people have it so much worse" and he consequently never expresses to others what he feels, thinks or needs.

i'm the same way. i keep saying that i'm shy, and that i'm a total pansy, and that i'm afraid to express my feelings. some of you may think, though, that because i've said on this website before that i'm in love with my friend erin [who's simply amazing... oh, she's so wonderful] i'm not really all that shy. but it's just when i write that i can share my feelings, just like charlie who has trouble except in the letters he writes [The Perks of Being a Wallflower is written in the form of letters charlie writes to an unnamed person he doesn't know because he has to express himself somehow and writing is one of the only ways he knows how, even if the only one reading his letters is a person he doesn't know, a person that he may never even see]. i can write blogs where i say i'm in love, i can write love letters, i can leave her messages on the myspace, i can write her text messages and i can write that i love her in essays that or write or speeches i know i won't have to give, and i've told her out loud that i love her a couple times, but for the most part i don't know how to express it. it drives me crazy.

i'm sorry if this ruins the book for some of you. if you haven't read the book and want to but don't want anything revealed to you, don't read on.

in the book, charlie has a conversation with the girl he has a crush on. she knows how he's felt for eight or so months. it goes basically like this [i'm not copying it exactly, but i'll get the point across]:

"charlie, why didn't you ask me out when craig and i broke up?"

"uhhh..."

"here, i'll make this easy for you. what did you think when we broke up?"

"i thought that you being sad was much more important to me than me dating you. that's when i realised that i really do love you, sam."

"charlie, don't you get it? i can't feel that. it's sweet and everything, but it's like you're not even there sometimes. it's great that you can listen and be a shoulder to someone, but what about when someone doesn't need a shoulder. what if they need the arms or something like that? you can't just sit there and put everybody's lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love. you just can't. you have to do things."

"like what?"

"i don't know. like take their hands when the slow song comes up for a change. or be the one who asks someone for a date. or tell people what you need. or what you want. like on the dance floor, did you want to kiss me?"

"yeah"

"then why didn't you?"

"because i didn't think you wanted me to because of what you told me."

"what i said nine months ago? charlie, i told you not to think of me that way nine months ago because of what i'm saying now. not because of craig. not because i didn't think you were great. 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. and if they do something i don't like, i'll tell them."

i have had almost the exact same conversation with my friend erin. it weirds me out how few differences there are between the conversation in the book and the conversation i had. but i don't know how to not carry it around inside. i don't know how to show her so she can feel it, too. i don't know how to do whatever i want around her. i never tell people what i need or want because i think other people's needs and wants are more important. i don't participate, and i can't figure out why not.

maybe i need to think less about the people around me and think more about myself. that's why i love writing blogs, because i get a chance to be introspective and share my insights instead of being extrospective and keeping things to myself. i guess i just need to go out on a limb and try things i've never tried before. i don't know. it's hard.