The Perks of Being a Wallflower

by Stephen Chbosky

For my family then For my family now

I am writing to you because she said you listen and understand and didn’t try to sleep with that person at that party even though you could have.

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.

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.

The reason I wrote this letter is because I start high school tomorrow and I am really afraid of going.

I guess I’m pretty emotional.

The point, though, is that there is a guy in shop class named “Nothing.” I’m not kidding. His name is “Nothing.” And he is hilarious.

It would be very nice to have a friend again. I would like that even more than a date.

I just remember going to the hospital. I remember sitting in a room with bright lights. I remember a doctor asking me questions. I remember telling him how Aunt Helen was the only one who hugged me. I remember seeing my family on Christmas day in a waiting room. I remember not being allowed to go to the funeral. I remember never saying good-bye to my Aunt Helen.

And I know that my aunt Helen would still be alive today if she just bought me one present like everybody else. She would be alive if I were born on a day that didn’t snow. I would do anything to make this go away. I miss her terribly. I have to stop writing now because I am too sad.

I remember when I was just about to say good-bye to my aunt Helen, I started crying. It was a real kind of crying, too.

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 that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, but I want it when I get like this. That’s why I’m trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning. If this gets any worse, I might have to go back to the doctor. It’s getting that bad again.

when he said that maybe I should start seeing a psychiatrist again. It was the first time a doctor ever told that to my parents with me in the room.

I feel like a big faker because I’ve been putting my life back together, and nobody knows. It’s hard to sit in my bedroom and read like I always did.

They didn’t say anything about Sam or Patrick. And all I wanted from the whole night was for them to know my friends. That was very important to me.

When I walked home, all I could think was what a terrible thing it was that I just did, and I started crying.

Something really is wrong with me. And I don’t know what it is.

And to not have to take 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 that God or my parents or Sam or my sister or 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.

To tell you the truth, I’ve just been avoiding everything.

“Charlie, do you know how smart you are?” I just shook my head no again. He was talking for real. It was strange.

I looked up at him. And then I didn’t feel strange. I felt like I wanted to cry. He was being so nice to me, and the way his girlfriend looked, I knew that this meant a lot to him. And I didn’t know why it did.

When I was driving home, I just thought about the word “special.” And I thought the last person who said that about me was my aunt Helen. I was very grateful to have heard it again. Because I guess we all forget sometimes. And I think everyone is special in their own way. I really do.

The city. A million lights and buildings and everything seems as exciting as the first time you saw it. It really is a grand entrance.

Then, we were quiet for the rest of the song. She held me a little closer. I held her a little closer. And we kept dancing. It was the one time all day that I really wanted the clock to stop. And just be there for a long time.

The cards said that these were my copies of all my favorite books, and I wanted Sam and Patrick to have them because they were my two favorite people in the whole world.

“I’m going to miss you all very much. I hope you have a great time at college.” And then I started crying because it suddenly hit me that they were all leaving.

After I said that, we all got quiet and sad. In the silence, I remembered this one time that I never told anybody about. The time we were walking. Just the three of us. And I was in the middle. I don’t remember where we were walking to or where we were walking from. I don’t even remember the season. I just remember walking between them and feeling for the first time that I belonged somewhere.

Her long hair and her thin wrists and her green eyes. I wanted to remember everything. Especially the sound of her voice.

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.”

So, I kissed her. And she kissed me back. And we lay down on the floor and kept kissing. And it was soft. And we made quiet noises. And kept silent. And still.

And it was so beautiful. She was so beautiful.

“I can’t do that anymore. I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s okay, Charlie. Just go to sleep,” Sam said.

When I fell asleep, I had this dream. My brother and my sister and I were watching television with my Aunt Helen. Everything was in slow motion. The sound was thick. And she was doing what Sam was doing.

Because I’m starting to feel like what I dreamt about her last night was true. And my psychiatrist’s questions weren’t weird after all.

I’m sorry I’ve put you through this when you don’t even know who I am, and we’ve never met in person, and I can’t tell you who I am because I promised to keep all those little secrets.

I felt like I did because you sounded like such a good person. The kind of person who wouldn’t mind receiving letters from a kid. The kind of person who would understand how they were better than a diary because there is communion and a diary can be found.

So, I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we’ll never know most of them. But even if we don’t have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them.

Like Sam said. Because it’s okay to feel things. And be who you are about them.

We were just there together. And that was enough.

And I just thought how great it was to have friends and a family.

I just let the wind rush over my face. And I started crying and smiling at the same time.

Not caring if I saw downtown. Not even thinking about it. Because I was standing in the tunnel. And I was really there. And that was enough to make me feel infinite.

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.

Years ago, there was a very sad kid who needed a whole lot of help. And writing to you was the beginning of that help.

What it was like to feel like no one could understand these feelings because I couldn’t understand them myself.

That kid wrote some letters and sent them out into the world to a stranger he had heard about. And then, something amazing happened. You wrote back.

And we can help each other. And we can talk to each other. And we can build great lives. Happiness is not this thing for other people.