The Billets-Doux

I read The Perks of Being a Wallflower again in January.  I can’t remember the first time I read it but I don’t think I was quite in the right frame of mind to appreciate the book as much as I did the second time around.  It seemed to capture that period of adolescence that I miss so much, that I always want to go back and experience over and over.  It was the time when all things were new and everything set your skin on fire.  Reading it made me long for those days of discovery again, of that transition from innocence to maturity, that strange mix of realizing everything is imperfect and yet amazing at the same time.  And of course, the various song compilations that play through the speakers of a car while driving all night long.

In The Perks of Being a Wallflower, a boy named Charlie writes letters to a person that we don’t know.  The funny thing is, the person who receives these letters doesn’t know Charlie, either.  His identity to them is just as much a mystery as their identity is to us.  I found this aspect of the book pretty intriguing.  And it made me think about doing something like that.

I’ve always wanted to do a writing project.  I’ve tinkered with the idea of creating a fictional blog with made up characters and a story that would progress in real time.  I quickly realized it’s hard enough writing about myself and the sticky situations I find myself in, i.e., death, so making up an entire world of characters, their baggage and their unfolding dramas is probably beyond my scope as a writer.  At least for now.

So, I thought maybe I’d just write a nice little letter and then send to it someone random.  Maybe I’d pick an address from the phone book or stick it in a mailbox somewhere.  And if I decided to do this, what would I write about?  Would I reveal my deepest, darkest secrets?  Things I wouldn’t even blog about?  Or should I keep it light and breezy and just tell them what’s going on with me?  Would I send different letters to different people or focus all my letters on one particular individual.  Would this be considered harassment?  Would they read these letters or ignore them?  Would they find it strange or intriguing?  Would I somehow make a connection with this random stranger just by exposing the same kind of thoughts and feelings we all experience?  Maybe they would see themselves in me.  Maybe my catharsis would be their own.

I’d have no way of knowing if they would read my letters.  The only way to do that would be to ask them to write back and I’m not sure if I should do that.  Might mess up the mystique of the experiment.  Of course, I could have them send a response to an unnamed mailbox or something.  They’d never have to know who I was.  I don’t know.  It could be interesting!

I was looking for an anniversary card for my sister and brother-in-law today and saw a lot of awesome cards.  I wondered if, instead of writing letters, I should send random cards to people.  You know, one of those non-specific cards like "just because" or "thinking of you."  I could write a note telling them to hang in there or let them know that someone thinks they are special.  Or maybe I could write love letters, nothing sexual or too specific, just something telling them that they are loved or will find love eventually.  I could write them love poems.  You know, ’cause you humans like that kind of stuff, right?  Then, I trembled.  I shocked myself, wondering why I’d even care to do something that strangely kind.  I’m not about that anymore.  Maybe when I was alive and younger but it doesn’t fit my pale persona anymore.  Eh, who cares, maybe I’m responding to a higher calling that is beyond me and my bitterness.  To perk someone up and possibly make their day better?  Isn’t it just the right thing to do?

I ask you, if a stranger sent you a letter or a card, how would that make you feel?  If it was a letter of introspection or a card of positivity, would you feel warmed or weirded out?  If they continued to send these letters, would you continue to read them or feel like your life was being intruded upon?  Personally, I don’t know how I’d react.  I think it would all depend on the content.  Naturally, if some psychopath sent me letters detailing his deadly exploits, including rape, torture and murder…I’d read on.  But if someone wanted to send letters chronicling their love lives, well I’d have to put a stop to that.  I don’t need to be exposed to that kind of smut.  But, that’s just me.

Really, I think it would just be a good excuse to start hand writing again.  I rarely use my journal anymore.  My brain works faster than my penmanship so it’s easier for me to type out my thoughts rather than write them down.  Yet, I really, really enjoy hand writing.  That might sound strange but I look at writing as just another form of art and I surely enjoy a beautifully written letter, both aesthetically and content wise.  Ah, whatever happened to the glory days of pen pals?

I need to find myself a Charlie so we can start a correspondence.