P.S. Charlie: A Modern Teen Writes Back
“Sometimes, I read a book, and I think I am the people in the book” —The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Page 21
Dear Charlie,
I’m Kaitlyn. I’m a high schooler, like you! Sort of. I’m a senior, not a freshman like you. As I near the end of high school, I find myself reflecting on my time here, and reading your story takes me right back to freshman year. That year I felt like I was just watching everything happen around me, not sure where I fit in. Sophomore year, my closest friends were seniors, just like yours right now. Junior year was just an academic mess, though at least it brought me closer to my teachers. Now as a senior, my school constantly asks me what legacy I want to leave behind. How should I know?
I hope you don’t mind that I’m copying your letter format for this essay. I hope I can be like the “friend” you address your letters to, which is why, I guess, I’m addressing this letter to you. I’m so thankful to have seen the world through your eyes. I saw myself in you—how you struggled to fit in, how your best friends were seniors, how nobody understood you like your teachers. I felt you in your quietness, your hypersensitivity, and when you told me your need to “observe”, rather than “participate”.
Oh, I should let you know: I only know all of this about you because Stephen Chbosky published a book in 1999 called The Perks of Being a Wallflower with your letters to an unnamed “friend”. I don’t know how you feel about your whole life being out there for anyone to see, but I hope you know that when I read your letters, all I wanted to do was tell you how much I appreciate you and your life. I know what it’s like to feel like life is happening all around you, like you’re standing at the edge of something so big—but unsure how to step into it. You’ve had moments where you swore you were “infinite”. I too know that feeling. It’s the same feeling I feel during late night runs with friends, when the music is loud and the world feels open and full of possibility. Your letters conveyed that feeling so well.
You don’t know it yet, but that moment doesn’t last forever. The seniors in your life will graduate, and you’ll have to figure out who you are without them. But I think that’s a part of growing up, learning that those infinite moments are fleeting, but they still matter. They’re the ones we hold onto when we feel lost. I guess what I’m trying to say is: thank you for reminding me to cherish those moments. Your letters made me feel less alone in my own high school experience. I’m sure anyone who reads them will find some moment to relate and feel seen.
Love always,
Kaitlyn
“I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you exist.” —The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Page 59
Dear Charlie,
When you wrote that, I felt it. Sometimes, feelings are too big, too heavy. But your letters reminded me I’m not alone in them. Like you, I can be a bit hypersensitive. I felt seen when you described your eternal feeling of crying, your need to connect, your consistent yearning for your newfound friends. I applaud you because I’ve never been able to express these as well as you did. For someone so forgotten and disregarded in his life, you made me remember exactly how I felt at my lowest. Well, I guess that’s either a great reason to read your letters—the relatability. Or it’s a reason not to—the crushing sadness when I remember I’ve felt how you feel.
I hope you know that your lingering isolation and feeling “different” isn’t unusual. While I can’t say I’ve ever carried the weight of my best friend’s suicide or self-blame for any tragic car accident that killed my beloved Aunt, as a teenager who’s often felt unseen, reading your experience still made me feel seen. I recommend your letters to those who have struggled to verbalize and articulate their emotions. Or to anyone who wants to read about how to understand their feelings, because you do such a poignant, human job of not figuring them out. And that’s just okay.
Love always,
Kaitlyn
“There were other stories and other names. Second Base Stace, who had breasts in the fourth grade and let some of the boys feel them. Vincent, who took acid and tried to flush a sofa down the toilet. Sheila, who allegedly masturbated with a hot dog and had to go to the emergency room. The list went on and on.” —The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Page 77
Dear Charlie,
Did you know that your letters were banned after they were published? It’s because of your bluntness about drugs and sexual stuff, you know, how you talked about how drugs “made everything feel better” and “how much better everything felt when [you were] high”. Or how you “have a lot of feelings about sex [you] don’t really know how to describe… because [you] don’t think [you’ve] ever felt this way before”. Man, Charlie, you are such a teenager.
American parents then found it unacceptable to be so open about talking about things like that—like sex and drugs and mental health. They thought it would corrupt other teens like you and me, making us worse people. But honestly, your experiences with those seemingly unavoidable things seem so raw and real to me; I don’t think you were a worse person after doing or thinking about it all. I think they helped you discover who you are. I think they helped you remember what you didn’t remember. I guess we can get to that later. Well, the point is, I’m here reading your book in 2025 and so are many others. Trying to forcibly erase your letters on teenage life did not make teenage life any easier, or your letters any less relatable. That means no, Charlie, you have not been forgotten. Banning your letters did not make people forget about you. Forgetting something doesn’t make that something go away.
Well, I guess you learned that lesson the hard way. That forgetting something doesn’t make it go away. That it will always be there, and maybe one day you’ll remember it the hard way. Remember when you wanted to just forget about your stupid teen stress? Remember when you took LSD with your friends? You said you “felt something when [you] took the pill. It was like floating, but also like [your] skin was too tight, and [you] didn’t feel real anymore.”
But then you woke up “pale blue and asleep” in the snow. I’m sure that’s hard to forget. I guess this is the part where I start to relate less to you. Your doctor suggested you start seeing a psychiatrist again, like you did after your Aunt’s death. You told me you felt you were “just repeating the same memories,” unaware of what was truly being uncovered. I was unaware too, Charlie. I thought your sessions with your psychiatrist were just more adolescent confusion, more unreliable teenage narration. I was unaware of the terrible truth you’d reveal at the end, how it would all tie back to your Aunt. That’s what makes your letters so brilliant. You weren’t just documenting your life—you were unknowingly piecing together your own past, trying to remember something you had buried so deep down. Because again, forgetting something doesn’t make that something go away.
Love always,
Kaitlyn
“And this time, I told her I loved her. And she told me she loved me, too. And things were okay for a little while.” —The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Page 50
Dear Charlie,
I’m glad you had your friends there for you. Even though they let you take all that LSD and honestly kind of groomed you, at least they were the first people to ever peel you off that wall, giving you the space to bloom like a flower. Cheesy, I know. Sorry.
Sometimes I wish I had a Patrick. I wish I had a charismatic friend with such a different perspective, an outsider in his own way. I mean, I guess his life would be hard anywhere anyway. I mean, even now, years after your letters were published, it's hard to be openly gay 26. But at least he was real. You called Patrick “nothing but himself,” and it’s true. He was a boy who used humor as both a shield and a way to bring people together. I think even today, Patrick’s life wouldn’t be so different. Patrick not being accepted by the typical high school quarterback jock (even though they hook up what, every week?) is still so realistic. I guess “situationships” have existed since the 1990s—let us Gen Z teenagers have a laugh. But I’m glad he’s not just a token character. He’s with you from the start to the end, a real “bro” teaching you how to grow up in the harsh realities of teenage life. Lucky you.
And Sam—Sam was the first girl who made you feel seen, other than your sister—you and her will get over the arguing stage, trust me. Anyways, I don’t think you ever fully understood how to see Sam for who she really was, even though she always asked you to. Oh Charlie, one day you’ll grow up. I wish I had a Patrick, but I also kind of wish I were Sam (well, not really, but she is pretty cool. Maybe a bit too insecure for me to be comfortable being). But please don’t idolize her the way you do. When you think of her as so perfect, you obscure her own struggles and flaws—you place her on a pedestal. I understand being unable to forget about her—I’ve had crushes like that too. But don’t disregard your other commitments—like when you had a girlfriend. I’m talking about that scene where you kiss Sam over your girlfriend—it’s infamous among people my age. The number of people I’ve talked to about it, about how ridiculous you act sometimes—Charlie, you are truly unique. And really, your friends are too. I find you all eerily familiar. I guess teen life never does change too much, even 26 years later.
Love always,
Kaitlyn
“We accept the love we think we deserve.” —The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Page 19
Dear Charlie,
I’m sorry about who your Aunt turned out to be. Like your letters, mine will be published soon, and I don’t want your story to be spoiled too much for others. So I’ll stay vague about Aunt Helen. All I have to say is I hope you receive the love you truly deserve, not just “accept[ing] the love you think you deserve”. Your English teacher was onto something when he said that. Like you, I didn’t understand either when you finally realized who she turned out to be. I can’t even imagine someone I love so much turning out like… that. I guess I was just as confused as you are, and I wish I hadn’t been. Maybe you could have emphasized something that serious in a clearer way, but I’m glad you didn’t let that trauma affect you so much. You’re strong, Charlie, and I admire who you are.
It’s not just your character who I genuinely felt. I love Patrick and Sam and even your sister and your English teacher Bill and your parents because I love the way I can still hear their voices in my head. Sorry for the run-on sentence. But I loved that about your letters—how they aren’t disingenuous or overedited. You really did speak from your heart, even if I wish you could run your writing through a modern-day grammar checker.
Thanks for being so real. I know you know things are tough in high school, but I also hope you remember the people around you. Yeah, Sam and Charlie are graduating while you have three years left, but you got people like your English teacher and his wife—eat more lunches with them! Remember that you aren’t a “freak” (screw that girl Susan for saying that). You’ll definitely get more comments like that over the year, even Brad didn’t hesitate to call Patrick that really homophobic slur as a senior. But also if that does happen to you, don’t physically beat your bullies up like you ended up doing to Brad. But honestly, you are a real boss for that. I smiled while reading that part.
Love always,
Kaitlyn
“And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.” —The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Page 27
Dear Charlie,
The more I think about it, the more I think you really are “infinite”. Nowadays, so much media about teen life is not only so unrealistic, it also sucks. There was this TV show, Euphoria, a really popular one too, that really sensationalized teen life. There was so much drama—so-and-so was having sex with someone they shouldn’t have, or so-and-so did some drugs they shouldn’t have—but the thing is, they didn’t make it seem as bad as it should have been. They made it seem like it was normal—like yeah, it hurt people—but it was normal enough (read that sarcastically). Seriously? Euphoria made people want to be like their characters, but you didn’t. You stuck out and stayed with me because you just made people understand what it was to be like you and realize what it is to be like themselves. Shows like Euphoria didn’t show the true harm that comes with this side of teen life the way you really did.
When you described the drugs you did, or the negative effects you and your friends’ sex lives had on your mental health, I really felt so regrettable for you. In media nowadays, I can never really feel the same. I mean, after Euphoria aired, people were doing trends online recreating the characters or wishing they could have such a drama-filled life. Oh, I guess that’s also something you don’t know. When you were my age, you didn’t have phones. I think that means while your life is so familiar to me, it’s so far away too. You really took me back to a time I’ll never know. And yet, I still related so much to it. So yeah, your life really is “infinite”.
Thanks for letting Chbosky publish your letters. I know you aren’t real. I know you’re just a character he made up. But I still hear you in my head, and I still think about you quite often. I know you won’t ever write me back, but just like you sign your letters off, I’ll sign off one more time.
Love always,
Kaitlyn