Над пропастью во ржи

           ImeanIstartedthinkingthatevenifhewasaflithecertainly’dbeenverynicetome.Ithoughthowhehadn’tmindeditwhenI’dcalledhimupsolate,andhowhe’dtoldmetocomerightoverifIfeltlikeit.Andhowhewenttoallthattroublegivingmethatadviceaboutfindingoutthesizeofyourmindandall,andhowhewastheonlyguythat’devengonenearthatboyJamesCastleItoldyouaboutwhenhewasdead.Ithoughtaboutallthatstuff.AndthemoreIthoughtaboutit,themoredepressedIgot.ImeanIstartedthinkingmaybeIshould’vegonebacktohishouse.Maybehewasonlypattingmyheadjustforthehellofit.ThemoreIthoughtaboutit,though,themoredepressedandscrewedupaboutitIgot.Whatmadeitevenworse,myeyesweresoreashell.Theyfeltsoreandburnyfromnotgettingtoomuchsleep.Besidesthat,Iwasgettingsortofacold,andIdidn’tevenhaveagoddamhandkerchiefwithme.Ihadsomeinmysuitcase,butIdidn’tfeelliketakingitoutofthatstrongboxandopeningituprightinpublicandall.

           Therewasthismagazinethatsomebody’dleftonthebenchnexttome,soIstartedreadingit,thinkingit’dmakemestopthinkingaboutMr.Antoliniandamillionotherthingsforatleastalittlewhile.ButthisdamnarticleIstartedreadingmademefeelalmostworse.Itwasallabouthormones.Itdescribedhowyoushouldlook,yourfaceandeyesandall,ifyourhormoneswereingoodshape,andIdidn’tlookthatwayatall.Ilookedexactlyliketheguyinthearticlewithlousyhormones.SoIstartedgettingworriedaboutmyhormones.ThenIreadthisotherarticleabouthowyoucantellifyouhavecancerornot.Itsaidifyouhadanysoresinyourmouththatdidn’thealprettyquickly,itwasasignthatyouprobablyhadcancer.I’dhadthissoreontheinsideofmylipforabouttwoweeks.