Because even when I thought I was original I wasn’t

When I was in grade nine I read Catcher in the Rye. 

I didn’t really understand what it was about and to this day whenever asked about that book I say “I just didn’t like it”.

Thinking back on it now I feel like maybe I just didn’t appreciate J.D. Salinger’s subjective, dry, “more then meets the eye” style of writing. Holden really pissed me off. Like, why was this dude going on and on about just sitting in his dorm room? And I felt like he was just telling story on top of story and it became inception for me, which was confusing as fuck.

I don’t know. It was boring, I think. 

I don’t really remember, it was grade nine and I was cool and smoked cigarettes and stole from Ardene’s and skipped class and read books which people thought was lame but now everybody likes a person who reads and everybody likes Star Wars and records and The Stones and because even when I thought I was original I wasn’t. 

No one’s original because once you’ve realized you are you’re not. 

Maybe it was my small town where everybody wore Abercrombie & Fitch and was a cheerleader or played hockey and if you hadn’t kissed a boy by the ripe age of twelve you were shunned. 

*A legit “lol”*

Anyway, I guess the point of this post is that I feel the need to re-read Catcher in the Rye because now I’m all “grown up” and what not. 



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