Holden Caulfield

Dear Holden,

I never thought that I could be physically angry at someone for not existing, but I want you to know I am personally holding you responsible for not being real, and am acting out in upset and volatile manners because of it.

I'm very weak, Holden.  Did you know that?

I'm guessing you didn't, but that's why I'm telling you now to make up for it.

I'm so weak that I've discovered I'm one of those people who feel they need to be loved in order to be happy.  I swear to God I mean it.  It disgusts me too.  But the problem is, I mean it.  I know it's crazy.

Did you know that you're also weak, Holden?  And I'd even go so far to say that you're weak in the same area as me.  But there's no way you'd ever admit it, is there?

I'm so weak, Holden, that I'm filing a complaint to a fictional character about how irksome and inconvenient it is to me that they are not a real human being.

You know, if you were real, I'd be so head over heels in love with you.  I really honestly already am.  Very big deal.

It kills me to realize all of this.  I mean, what a disappointment I am.  What a slob.  If anything, I'm the pond scum that lives on the bottom of the slob's shoe, if you know what I mean.

Do you know what I mean?

The problem with being in love with you, Holden, or one of the problems anyway, is that I have to rationalize with myself over and over again that it's impossible for you to love me back.  Which is really quite the downer, because I honestly think we'd be good together, if I may speak candidly.

In some sick, strange way I understand you and all your disaffected sarcasm and blatantly hurtful honesty.  Your delivery is weak, and less-than-compelling, but I do believe your intentions are good.  Underneath all of that depression and hopelessness, you're really very bright and full of faith.  You want to believe in humanity, don't you?  I know, because I do too.

Something about you makes me pick up Catcher over and over and over again without tiring or growing bored of the same old story. That's got to mean something, am I right?

But let's get back to the honesty bit.  If we were together, I wouldn't try to change you.  I wouldn't have to.  I don't think we'd be together forever, neither of us is the type to be built to last with someone too similar to us, but I think we could stick it out for a good, long while.  And we'd be happy.  Sort of.  Maybe not so much happy as much as we'd be okay.  I wouldn't be lonely, and you wouldn't be depressed anymore.

And you could say the sort of crap to me that you say to everybody else, and I swear I wouldn't get all offended by it.  I wouldn't hit the ceiling like good old Sally Hayes did when you called her a royal pain your ass.  Honest, I wouldn't.   I'd probably call you a pain in my ass just to dish it right back at you.  If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a girl who takes crap like that and doesn't dish it right back out.  I mean, what else were we given mouths for, you know?

But all of this is a very big deal for no reason at all, because you're only some fictional character.  And even though I'm in love with you, kid, the love's not real either.

And that's showbiz.

So you'll stay immortalized on paper, always close to my heart, and on my nightstand, and I'll just have to accept that.

Thanks for all the inspiration, golden Holden.

You're a real dream.

With lasting affection,

Hannah