The Catcher in the Rye

by J.D. Salinger

Women kill me. They really do. I don’t mean I’m oversexed or anything like that – although I am quite sexy. I just like them, I mean.

One of my troubles is, I never care too much when I lose something –

Very me

One thing I have, it’s a terrific capacity. I can drink all night and not even show it, if I’m in the mood. Once, at the Whooton School, this other boy, Raymond Goldfarb, and I bought a pint of Scotch and drank it in the chapel one Saturday night, where nobody’d see us. He got stinking, but I hardly didn’t even show it. I just got very cool and nonchalant. I puked before I went to bed, but I didn’t really have to – I forced myself.

Ugh 🙄

I’d just be the catcher in the rye and all.

Among other things, you’ll find that you’re not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You’re by no means alone on that score,