infinite

I was going to write some nostalgic/excited blog about tomorrow, about all my years wearing glasses and contacts and how, if all goes well (knock on wood), that part of my life will be over tomorrow. Was going to.

But I just finished reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower, and my god. Everything else has been temporarily driven from my mind. I got it from the library yesterday on a whim; I was there for something else the they ended up not having, and I happened to remember it as something someone recommended to me once, so I checked it out. I sat down to read it this evening after Dad and I wrapped presents, thinking I'd get a few chapters in before temporary blindness sets in tomorrow (Mom said I may well not be able to read comfortably for two or three days—eep!), but I just kept going. It was so, I don't know, perfect. I can't pass judgment yet (I just finished the damn thing ten minutes ago), but when I finished the last page, I was literally breathless. I just sat there for a moment, overwhelmed by how striking, how emotionally perfect, how—I don't even know what. I can't remember the last time I had such a strong reaction to a book. I kept getting such flashes of recognition throughout, such authenticity, from a character, an action, an emotion. When Charlie talked about feeling infinite, I went back and read it three times over. I know that. I've felt that. I've even tried to describe it, though the word I found myself using was "ineffable." But that's what I meant.

I really ought to go to bed now. I mean, I have a pretty significant appointment tomorrow morning, and I don't want to be any more sleepy than the drugs are going to make me. But—wow. I can't sleep after that. I'm going to take a long bath and think about life. And seriously kids, if you haven't, read this book.