The Perks of Being a Wallflower

by Stephen Chbosky

I just need to know that someone out there listens and understands and doesn’t try to sleep with people even if they could have. I need to know that these people exist.

So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be.

“Charlie, we accept the love we think we deserve.”

“I feel infinite.”

“He’s a wallflower.”

And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.

I asked Patrick if he felt sad that he had to keep it a secret, and Patrick just said that he wasn’t sad because at least now, Brad doesn’t have to get drunk or stoned to make love.

It was the kind of kiss that I could never tell my friends about out loud. It was the kind of kiss that made me know that I was never so happy in my whole life.

That was the poem I read for Patrick. Nobody knew who wrote it, but Bob said he heard it before, and he heard that it was some kid’s suicide note. I really hope it wasn’t because then I don’t know if I like the ending.

So, if this does end up being my last letter, please believe that things are good with me, and even when they’re not, they will be soon enough. And I will believe the same about you.

And I can tell you what happened to Charlie in three words… He made it. And so will you.