I am vividly feeling the weight of something that is only in my head pressing against my very own being. I only get brief moments of a backwash before it hits hard again; it’s pressing.
A string of thoughts and feelings is wrapped around my neck, and my breath is shallow; the world gets darker.
I will let myself fade, slowly. And I know, eventually, I’ll be back and whole again, but not today.
When I write these words, when I let you have a glimpse of something unknown; something unknown to me, but living within my mind, my heart. It is not because I want you to understand or relate but, rather, because I have to get it out. What is it? It is a dark, overwhelming, excruciating inability to feel anything. It is addictive, it is destructively empowering, and it is arcane.
A myriad of experiences impacted me. I became intoxicated with pathological thought; like a blurry, disturbed lake water as someone has dropped a rock into. With violent ripples forming on the surface, the reflection on the water becomes distorted, and unlike normal water, the ripples never disappeared with time, and the water never became still and clear again. I was forever blurry, and the distortion everlasting.
But I do forget sometimes; I forget what it is like. Forgetting is a temporary sanctuary. And I do hope sometimes; I hope that someday something or someone will make that sanctuary a permanent one.
Books and movies. They provide a sanctuary for those who seek beauty in the form of words. Even though this beauty could sometimes make us cry our eyes out, it gives us this priceless and beautiful feeling.
The writer creates a person, and it’s not just a person. It’s a fraction of the writer’s soul. And we… we fall in love with that fraction. We draw this perfect image of that fraction in our minds, and we fantasize how great it would be if it was real. We live the written words with this person, and we even fantasize about being that person.
The essence of the book-movie-beauty is when that person dies in the book or in the movie. It is really beautiful how we get affected emotionally by their death. We cry, we grieve, and we spend days like this. It really is dazzling how we are affected by such a work of art that it makes us cry. sad, yet beautiful.
Sadness is a beautiful feeling, and it brings out your artistic self a bit. And it’s even more beautiful when it is induced by a movie or a book.