I know you are, but what am I

My heart aches today. Tears don’t fall, though eyes well up. I don’t even know why. May be because I finished reading The Catcher in the Rye. I went to a beach after that and saw a lot of stingrays washed up ashore. But my heart still aches.

Holden does not like anything, anything at all. Mostly because he finds everything to be fake and phony. Though he loves digression. Like hell he does. He can’t have sex with someone he has no feelings for. He collects things like, say, a broken record. Small things bowl him over. Move him. Kill him. Over and over again. People annoy the hell out of him. He talks to his dead brother. He calls himself a madman. He probably gets some peace when his kid sister shows him that he is not alone, and goes around happily on a brown horse. A carousel. He says good-by. Just like that. Because he misses everything.

I keep the book back in the shelf, and look at the other books, to decide which one to pick. I am so inclined to pick Catch 22 and re-re-read it. But I pick something that I haven’t read before. I had once told a friend, that I don’t like the fact that many people read certain books that I love. People who do not deserve to read it. People who do not understand it. People who just read it to brag about it. I don’t care that that’s how I feel  about the books I love. That’s just how I feel about certain things.

My heart aches tonight. But everything is fine, if you want to know the truth.



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