Paper Towns is a fantastic book. It makes me want to go out and buy a notebook - not a spiral; a sturdy one that will wear but still last, probably leather-clad. It makes me want to write and write and write, but probably not crosshatched because that seems hard and I would not be able to read my own words. I want to write plans and schemes for all sorts of things, be able to leave clues places, and give people a mystery to solve even if only a silly one. But sadly I am not that creative, and even if I were to be (which I could aspire) - what could someone need to solve? To find? To understand? Would it be my deepest secret, my biggest crush, where I spent last Saturday night or maybe where I want to spend my future. Or the sad notion, perhaps it would be the inner workings of my mind flow and the thoughts that stray from the pool of happiness. But I would need to comprehend those myself aswell. Following an “escape” like many thought Margo was after, maybe it would be clues to my sense of a paper town.. Of where I could disappear. Is that possible? Do I want it? Even Q went the dark road, the lonely path and feared her cold lips (and not the road not taken, the one less traveled as Mr. Frost states because that is adventure and could very well lead up and over not down and within). It is a tendency we have had from the beginning, and one can only be so fortunate maintain endless hope and look on the bright side at every single situation in life. Some can gain this outlook. And I do congratulate them on the ability and desire to overcome and rise despite being knocked to their knees. They keep you from insanity and can offer the better solution or even an obvious answer, even if not as mysterious/interesting/accepting. Such as Ben offering the simple possibily that Margo is only playing a joke and in Orlando the whole time. Everybody needs a Ben I think, to reel you back and keep your door open, or your “mind” according to Radar. Again, another example when Ben says a literal door and he is in fact correct. I went online and requested “The Bell Jar”, which Margo refers to by reciting words strung together in such a way that made me ache and crave at the same time: “But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so white and defenseless that I couldn’t do it. It was as if what I wanted to kill wasn’t in that skin or the thin blue pulse that jumped under my thumb, but somewhere else, deeper, more secret, and a whole lot harder to get at.” And reading that made more sense to me than anything, which scared me because according to that I have murdered, have I not? So maybe that is why I want this notebook to carry with me, because I felt connected like the grass to Margo’s thought process despite the fact she does not exist. And along with those inside me I cannot help but carry myself on strings, as do most of us all. And I know what I have done is the snapping of a string to hold me up, hence causing more weight upon myself. Unlike some strings that may tear slowly and in due time, the deepest cuts come from the cords that seem to have been swallowed by scissors with no struggle to stay together. Perhaps that is why things only look darker at times: with the loss of a string and the sudden added heaviness, we lose the energy, the hope, to lift our gaze and see not all is lost and that there are lines still holding us up and threading within us - urging us on to raise in strength. And when the strings inside us break, we feel helpless. But for either case we must remember to not dwell, thus we lose track of our feet and float away like a lone balloon slipping out of a childs sweaty grasp. The holding of our own hand as we break away and slip through our fingers until we are nothing but an empty, colorless, piece of body - like the small scrunched up rubber of a balloon when all the air has exited.
So if one had the choice, would it be rather to be held together by strings or grounded by grass forever connected?
That is the million dollar question. And unlike the inquiries of whether a raven is like a writing desk which has no definite answer, one can reply to this question I’ve placed.
But perhaps, a notebook may be required.