It is absolutely, hands down one of the strangest and most eclectic experiences of my youth to find myself unshackled. For a brief moment in time, I abandoned online writing (mostly because
I lost touch with deeper reality working at a summer camp the internet was no-existent). Ok, so here goes..hope I’m not too rusty at this.
I know I’ve mentioned the original sullen teenager in posts before, I would link but I’ve even forgotten how to scroll through (dare say!), but there’s just not enough to be said about Holden Caulfield. Especially right now. Especially when I am trapped in these evanescent trappings between wanting to grow up & wanting to stay just as things are and freeze frame. Oftentimes, I find myself on the cusp of truly believing that I am ready to seek the unknown fortress of phony reality, while others I’m cowardly and afraid of growing up. Self-consciousness afraid of changing, growing up, moving on. So I’ve found myself in this sort of condition, rolling around on a hard wood floor in the middle of a big city surrounded by hipsters and beatniks and (more importantly) college freshmen (what?). And I know, I have to say goodbye to the old & welcome the new. No matter how weird it is.
Which brings me to perhaps the best few lines of prose in American novel-ty.
What I was really hanging around for, I was trying to feel some kind of a good-by. I mean I’ve left schools and places I didn’t even know I was leaving them. I hate that. I don’t care if it’s a sad good-by or a bad good-by, but when I leave a place I like to know I’m leaving it. If you don’t, you feel even worse.