I was reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower when I saw a question fade in slowly in my head. Yes, the question did not suddenly appear in my mind—it faded in. Why it faded in is a question I don’t bother to answer.
“What if I only have a month more to live on Earth?”
I’m sure that question has entered your mind at least once in your lives as well. It’s just funny that I’m thinking about that question while I’m engorged in this book. Could it be that I’m seeing myself in Charlie—this quiet, unassuming boy? Perhaps I am.
Anyway, if I had only a month left in this world to live, I’d probably not tell anybody. Yes, I’d probably go as far as slamming a sock down my throat to keep myself from whining and crying about my impending death. I’d bury myself alive if I have to–though that would be completely useless and ironic since I’m dying anyway.
I guess you’re wondering why the hell would I want to keep this big (or important) of a secret from people who (I assume) love me?
For one, I don’t like special treatments. I want the people who are a bitch to me to continue being a bitch me simply because that’s the kind of treatment they think I deserve. I don’t want them to befriend me all of a sudden out of sheer guilt that I’ll be a goner soon.
I want the people who are genuinely nice to me to stay the same and not go overboard with their kindness once they learn of my *gasp* timely death. I want to knowing that the people who were nice to me my entire life were genuinely appreciative of my presence in their lives. I don’t like anybody sugarcoating my death as poetry or whatever. I want to die the way people should die—unexpected.
More importantly, I want to prove (more of believe) that you don’t have to be a dying person to be accepted by everyone. That you don’t have to be a bedridden daughter, friend, girlfriend or wife to be told how much you’ve changed another person’s life. That you don’t have to be tied to a wheelchair to feel that people are really capable of unwavering, loyal love. That you don’t have to lose all that hair on your head to be told that your beautiful. That you don’t have to be gone to be treated the way you should have been treated. That you don’t have to be a mere memory to be remembered for the things you did for love’s sake.
I guess I learned that you should truly treat everybody as if it’s the last time you’ll see them because true enough, you never know when death is going to strike—you can never know. I think that’s why I’m a little too sweet towards some friends. I want to make sure that everybody knows that I love them because you never know if you’re the only one giving him/her that kind of attention. It lifts people’s spirits–when you make them feel (and not just say it) how much you love them.
Reading this book again made me sad. I feel for Charlie. Especially Aunt Helen.
This post–so random. Blah.