Wallflowers are gay

Have you ever read another’s diary? You sure have.

My house mate got a copy of The Perks Of Being A Wallflower only since a word is out that its upcoming movie adaptation will star Emma Watson. I got interested in the book for the same reason but having got much time to kill from being still jobless as a more weighty reason, I sat and read and finished without the least struggle (which seldom happens because I am not big on books, not yet).

I disliked feeling like one with the writer almost all the way, having to agree with much of what he’s said. Throughout the novel, I went ‘hey, I’ve thought about these things too’ too many times. But the thing is, I haven’t cared to write them down. And suppose I did, maybe I would not have published most of them thinking they’re an unintended product of my overthinking cynic psyche no one would dare read, hence, is better off kept in my journal.

Stephen Chbosky wrote the novel by way of compiling letters (which are of the dear-diary type which makes them quite intimate) which ran for over a year addressed to a total stranger to talk about his bore of a life as a high school crybaby who thinks things through so much that he can only watch them happen around him – school and home, and choose not to participate in them though he understands them, or in psychiatric terms is being “passive aggressive”, or in a literary sense is becoming a “wallflower” which I think is a little gay.

So I must be a little gay to feel like a wallflower at times. At times when I only shrug my shoulders in response to somebody’s (or even my own) question, sit in silence through a discussion of interest, or not pass around some juicy gossip. But I would like to think that, in more ways, I actually “participate” as when I sing along to Bustin Jieber’s Baby, raise a brow on the church’s opposition to the RH bill, or say ‘yes’ to dates (though it’s often half-meant). Now that’s a tight spot. It’s timidity versus boldness. It’s niggling to resolve where the lines overlap but I feel droopier by the minute to fathom further.

Even with this novel being a very easy read as relative to having read it next to a Swedish crime novel, it still did engross me enough to make me want to add the books it mentioned to my reading list, as well as the songs which made the main characters feel “infinite” to my iPod playlist. I got myself a copy of Catcher in the Rye just the other day to begin with. Soon enough, I will let The Smiths’ Asleep to rock-a-bye-baby me.

It’s my favorite book until I get to read another one. The movie starts to tape today, by the way.

And one last thing, reading another’s diary is a crime punishable by law.


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