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Holden Caulfield's Suicide Note
I can’t tell when you’ll find this note. Heck, I don’t even know when you’ll find me. I’m probably glad that I’ll “end not with a bang but a whimper.” (The Hollow Men, T. S. Elliot) Ending with a bang would be phony and I’m not going to end up becoming what I’ve been trying to escape.
I always wondered what it would be like for the catcher to fall. Perhaps it will be a blissful feeling. Getting away from that incessant humdrum of phonies, even if only for a few moments, will be better than whatever I’ve felt here. Unadulterated purity is hard to come by.
Too much happens in this world. Whoever said “what goes around, comes around” probably talked in half-truths. Sure the ducks come back. They always come back. The exhibits in the museum never change. They only show how much I change. Phoebe doesn’t change. Allie can’t change. Nothing changes. Nothing I like changes. Only phonies change, and I’m not one of them. If I leave now, I won’t be able to change either. Just like Allie. Just like Allie.
I sure hope Phoebe doesn’t come after me. She always comes after me. And she always knows how. That’s what never changes about her. That’s what I like about her.
They say “the road to hell is paved with good intentions,” but I sure don’t feel that way. If I jumped in a river to save a man but drowned myself, would I go to hell? My intentions were good but I ended up failing anyways. A phony would say you wouldn’t. And a phony would go to hell. I ain’t gonna be a phony. If leaving now means going to hell, then ill go there with my good intentions. I won’t go there as a phony.
Maybe I’ll meet some old friends of mine down there. Perhaps James Castle. The good lad. He’d rather take his own life than take back his words. Yes, that sounds nice. The only non-phony in that pit of flames. Yes. Like a paradise in a forbidding desert. Ironic how the pure may end up surrounded by charlatans and frauds.
Gess I’ll have the sex to look forward to though probably not. No one respects anyone in the devil’s realm. Even the love they make down there is phony. It’s really quite repulsive it is. Makes me considering abstinence. Sex is phony. I don’t need it. Still… “needs must as the devil drives.” Nothing ever changes. Not in this world. And not in that world.
The wind doth blow and change is inevitable. Only the wisest and stupidest of men never change. ‘Spose that’s why all the phonies fall in between. Society is made of the middle tier and under- represents we who do not change. Then again, dwelling upon half- truths and philosophical adages is phony too. “A wise man creates proverbs. A fool repeats them.” I ain’t no phony but I ain’t no fool either.
Perhaps I won’t hit the ground at all. Maybe I’ll just phase on through and keep falling into that pit-hole of hell. Maybe Phoebe and DB will move on. Maybe they’ll follow suit. Most likely the latter. I hope they don’t. Especially Phoebe. She won’t change. She doesn’t need it and change doesn’t need her. She’ll always be good old Phoebe. Riding on that carousel horse. Zooming around a corner and comin’ back the other way. Always comin’ back.
They say “what goes around, comes around.” Phoebe will come around. No matter what. I can’t say I’ve ever liked anything before. But now I can. As I sit on the sill, I realize I do like something. I like how Phoebe always comes around again.