Silly Dreams

When I read Catcher in the Rye, I was 14, and I hated it. I thought it was stupid, overrated, and a waste of my time. Now, when I look back upon that book as a 17 year old, I don't think anything could sum up this world, this crazy, dynamic, throbbing, pulsing world of human beings better than the word phony.

Even as I listen to beautiful music, I'm aware of the fleeting, unreal nature of it all. Cynical much? I think so. Age and experience does that to you. It turns the dreamer inside you into something ugly, realistic, always doubting, questioning, something you don't recognize, someone you thought you'd never become, and you still foolishly cling on to those childish wishes, thoughts of the perfect someone, a dream house by a rocky beach, even though you know it won't ever happen.

That's what makes me phony. I believe all my wishes are going to come true and I also know that they're not. Isn't this the stuff that crazy people are made of? Living in two different worlds at the same time? Crazy and phony, that's what we all are.

I still have childish dreams. I see myself in my dream college. I see myself being liked by everyone. I see myself a famous actress. I see myself spending the night with the love of my life walking around an empty town that belongs to only us. Silly dreams.