Dear Friend, I'm Back - A 'Perks of Being a Wallflower' Story

Chapter 5 - Dear Friend, I'm Back - A 'Perks of Being a Wallflower' Story

January 11, 1993

Dear friend,

You know Dave? The boy who raped his girlfriend in my bedroom at my brother's party all those years ago. Well he was arrested yesterday. My Mom and Dad were talking about it because they knew his parents. I heard them saying that the rest of the football team had caught him at his college trying to have sex with another freshman. News travels fast I guess. But maybe it won't ruin his football career. I feel bad though.

I still haven't written to Sam. And school is getting worse. It is like I've hurt everyone somehow. Like I've had a fight with them all. I'm not sure if I can write to Sam yet. Everything is still raw, even though we did those things. But I did that all before with Mary Elizabeth. Even though Sam and I shared a bed, she didn't touch me down there.

I really am trying to participate though. I've joined the art club after school. I get extra credit, too. My Mom will like that when I tell her. I can't draw too well. Not now anyway. But I think if I practice more I will be quite good. I would have joined photography club. But I don't have a camera.

It would have been nice to take pictures of Sam. I think I would need to get a job, and then I could maybe save enough money to buy myself a camera. Maybe a Polaroid. Then I could have the pictures straight away. And I could write on them. I would take a picture of Sam, and I could write why I think she was beautiful under the picture on the Polaroid. That would make me happy, I think.

But now I will just have to try to learn how to draw. And maybe in the end I could draw Sam smoking a cigarette. But then it would depend on how well I could draw Sam and I think she wouldn't be as beautiful. Because I hadn't drawn her properly. And that makes me sad.

Now I don't want to do art anymore. I don't think I am that good. But I need to participate. So I won't quit. Not until I have a job so I can buy my own camera to take pictures of Sam. I do miss her more than anyone else. But I'm not sure if we are together. If we are boyfriend and girlfriend, or just friends. Because I kissed Patrick but we aren't boyfriend and boyfriend. But I did all that stuff with Mary Elizabeth and I don't think we were ever boyfriend and girlfriend. More like talker and listener. Or talker and talkee. That was mean. I should probably stop talking about Mary Elizabeth now. I'm not angry with her, honest.

I went and told my Mom about joining art club after school. So I'm writing this part after I wrote the first part. She looked very happy, and she wasn't quiet and she told my Dad. He just said "great" and kept watching the TV. I wasn't sad though, because I know he is happy that I'm trying, even though he doesn't like to show it. He's a good Dad and I love him.

I thought about masturbating and thinking about Sam again, but I don't want to. But I when I get into bed all I can think about now is her breasts. I used to be able to think about my books or a song that made you feel special, but now all I see is two wonderful breasts. They really are nice though. You must understand me, because you're older and even though you didn't have sex with that person when you could have, I'm sure you've seen some breasts that you think are perfect too.

I'm happy that I chose not to use real names for these letters. Because that could have been embarrassing for Sam. And I don't want that. But they really are amazing. And very soft and real. Because Sam doesn't have fake ones like some girls always talk about wanting.

I don't understand why people want to put plastic in their bodies though. There is always somebody that will want to touch your breasts. Because somebody will always think they're perfect. You might not like Sam's. But I do, and that's is what matters, right? I hope so. And I hope that I am allowed to like them this much. Sometimes I worry that I think about them too much, and I get scared that God will punish me.

But I have just realised I've written a lot about breasts. And that's too much and now I have an erection. If I lived with Sam then we could have dealt with it. But I'm not finished writing yet, so I will have to wait to masturbate. But that's not bad. Because it feels good to have an erection when you think about the girl that you love.

I wish that Sam was back now. And I want to cry but I won't. I look out of the window in front of my desk, and I wish that she was just driving down the street in her truck to pick me up. Then we could go out and catch a movie and kiss at the back of the theater. And it would be good.

I've got to go, because I'll need to masturbate before my Mom calls me for dinner. I'll write you more letters when football training camp starts. Maybe I'll even have some money towards a camera by then.

Love always,

Charlie