I’ve never felt more connected to a fictional character than I do to the main character in Catcher in the Rye. And that scares me.


He’s not a strong character.

He’s a coward.

He’s stupid.

He’s careless.


But, if there was any word to describe what I’m feeling about myself… that would be it. I’m an idiot. And I really don’t why people want to hang out with me. I just feel so wasteful.

Yet, I’m still here. I still exist. I still reside in this place.

How is that even possible?

5 thoughts on “47:365

  1. Just don’t go around murdering celebrities, okay? Especially the ones we really love.

    All kidding aside, the big reason why I loathe that book is because at one point or another, we all think we’re Holden Fucking Caulfield, and I hate that J.D. Salinger figured us all out so well like that. But it’s not permanent. I went through that phase too, thinking everyone was a “phony.” Ugh. But he’s a fictional character; he can’t change. You can.

  2. By still being here and reside and taking on another day proves that you are not a weak character nor a coward. Sometimes the hardest battles fought are living for another day.

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