that’s the name of my favorite book of all time. No over exaggeration. It’s the only book I’ve ever truly loved. It seems like for the past 6 or 7 years, the only books I’ve gotten to read were ones that were assigned. All I couldn’t get caught up in them, because in the back of my mind I knew I had to remember certain facts and random quotes for some test, or that I would have to write some asinine essay about how it relates to the other books I was forced to read and then write about.
And this one is different it was the last book I read before all the reports started. It was the end of the 6th grade, summer I think. I forget how I heard about it, but I knew I had to read it. After I finished I felt different. Have you ever done that, after you see a great movie or read an amazing book you see things differently. You see the world in a different way and that’s what this book did for me; it’s what Charlie did for me.
I’ve been re–reading it since I took that break from school, and there won’t be any reports or quote memorization involved when I’m finished. After I had to stop taking the anti-depressants I’ve been fine, there isn’t so much to focus on. I still have all my bills but when I’m at work I’m there and I put my all into it; and then when I come home I only have to think about being here, maybe cleaning some things or making food. Anyway, as I’m reading I see Charlie going through the same things I went through, well the things I’m kind of still going through. I’m not sure why but it’s supremely reassuring to know that someone else has felt the same way, even if that someone is in a book.
It’s the same reason I love music so much. Think to yourself for a moment… have you ever heard a song that says everything you’ve been thinking or feeling recently. It’s everything you wish you could articulate to the world but you can’t; and your feeling have been shoved down inside for so long you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to express yourself. Then all of a sudden you hear this song and out of the speakers, pour the words that you soul scream but your mouth could never say. Even after it’s over, and the silence takes over you realize that someone else has gone through the same things, that someone somewhere felt how you feel and they made it out alive, and you can too; and you instantly know that you are understood, and you are not alone.
If you haven’t felt this way then I really do feel for you, because it’s one of the best I think anyone can ever experience. I think the best thing about this book is that it gives me this feeling when I least expect it. There are a few quotes that conveys the way a felt and the my lowest, and it’s completely relatable but in a real and amazing way.
Here are a few of the best, and therefore the most depressing:
“I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, I want it when I get like this. That’s I’m trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning.”
It was like that at my lowest point. I laid in bed for days waiting. Waiting to feel better. Waiting for things to be different. Waiting for something that never came. So I went to a doctor and he gave me some pills. And for a while I felt a lot better. Then I found out our insurance for 2008 wouldn’t cover filling my prescription, so when I ran out of sample packs, I ran out of pills for good. Then Petey died after that hit and run near exit 21A. and I had to get Roxy, and I spun out on the freeway. And I had to stop going to school for a while so I can work full time at the job I got so I can pay for my new-to-me civic.
“I know that I brought this on myself. I know that I deserve this. I’d do anything not to be this way. I’d do anything to make it up to everyone. And to not have to see a psychiatrist, who explains to me about being ‘passive aggressive.’ And to not have the medicine he gives me, which is too expensive for my dad. And to not have to talk about bad memories with him. Or be nostalgic about bad things. I just wish… someone would just tell me what’s wrong with me. just tell me how to be different in a way that makes sense. To make this all go away. And disappear. I know that’s wrong because it’s my responsibility, and I know that things get worse before they get better because that’s what my psychiatrist says, but this is a worse that feels too big.”
I feel like everything spun out of control after that day. I was just barely hanging on, make no mistake. But I was going to class again, doing the reading and the homework and things. And then the accident happened… a delivery truck cut me off on the freeway while I was on my way to target one night, it wouldn’t have been so bad if it had been a different type of vehicle, one that didn’t have a giant metal ladder attached on the back for people to climb up that took on the front end of my car. After that my parents had to drive up so we could look for another one, because then more than ever I couldn’t afford to miss work for any reason. So we looked for a cheap replacement car once we got the official word that Petey was dead, damaged beyond repair. And I get a red ’98 honda civic, which I promptly named Roxy Hart because she clearly thinks she’s classier than she is. And so I had to try and become full time. Which meant that school had to go away at least until next year so I can make the payments. So that now every time I’m done with one of my shifts and I walk up the stairs to where I park; I forget what happened for a little bit and look for Petey but he’s not there. The only thing I see is a red ’98 civic parked where my car should be. And I know I have to drive home in this car. If I ever have to get something and I’m laying in my apartment I think about the fact that to get anywhere I’d have to go in that civic. And I think about how things happen, and wonder how this became my life. Then I get in my car a drive wherever I’m going and pay too much for things that I know I’ll regret later, but that make me feel better because then I don’t have to think about every thing waiting outside of the target for me. to add insult to injury a week ago someone broke into the civic and stole my car stereo, and consequently my Kate Voegele cd in the process. So when I get in the car after one of those times I forget that I don’t’ have Petey, and that I have to listen to my ipod while I drive and I look at that gaping hole where my stereo used to be and I think about my car insurance bill, and rent, and the cable bill and the gas I’ll have to put into it. Sometimes I can’t help but think that this is a worse that feels too big…and I wish someone would tell me how to be different in a way that makes sense.
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