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.
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?