I am going through old pictures, not very old but of a different time. And that's when I feel it. A punch inside my stomach, one after another. I almost grabbed the table to not fall down. sometimes I feel I am living a serious of hallucinations like in Stay. And in reality, everything is just coming to an end.
I kept going deeper in the past, fragments. Fragments of fragmented relations, little pieces and then a complete whole. Friends and lovers lost. With the music in the background, I try to feel good about myself. I seem to be running out of thread to tie those fragments together, they cease to make sense now, but I am trying. Rewinding back, I think of the first man I met and then the last man I left. there are such strange similarities in people separated by almost a decade. Then I think of the only one I thought I loved, but oh the relief its absence gives me. There are times when I can't breathe, and then I feel free.
My Week With Marilyn, a beautiful movie. Marilyn Monroe lived like a disaster, and such a lovely one. The third assistant director falls in love with her, but what he doesn't realize until the end is that he was a fragment, a little sip of alcohol she took while crossing hundreds of bars. He intoxicated her for a little while, so she doesn't fall apart. It made me think of how relationships are in general. It's getting very common now, people leave. Like just abandon and leave. Drop others somewhere and just walk away, without a care in the world. I wonder if it even hurts them to see someone suffer now.
I do, sometimes. What's hard is to erase the touch, there's a warmth or cold chill that's left behind somehow. Some have been cold and disgusting even after years of efforts, and some just engrave themselves in you. Its like a mark left, a drink too strong a night a bit long. But you cannot forget either of them. Not even the fearful escapes and neither the guilty walkaways.
The poignant beauty of tragic endings leaves an impression. The Lover was unusual, very unusual. Its not glamorized like Lolita, neither does the girl wear bright red lipstick with heart-shaped glasses and sits under sprinklers reading fashion magazine. She is sad, just plain sad. Maybe that's why the movie seemed less appealing to many, because the sex encounters between the Japanese man and her were in a broken shack somewhere in a fish market. It had a way of defining and characterizing love. Nobody murders anyone, nobody dies...just an encounter of a 15 year old with a man much older. It is of course not for those who have a judging eye, and will discard it automatically as a pedophile romance.
I am in a pleasant state right now, busy working and making sense out of things. But there are some times when I look back at the people in those fragments, and wish for a comeback. But one learns to get comfortable with their messy arrangement. Its too comfortable, but things linger on. And maybe, just maybe, a decade down the line, I'd still be in a pleasant state, looking back at pictures and not feeling devastated. Instead a memory of those lovely warm touches will still seem fresh.
Though I wonder at times, what and who will I end up with, whether I will end up with anyone AT ALL. And then I am reminded of 25 more articles to cmplete!
Argh!
:-|
I kept going deeper in the past, fragments. Fragments of fragmented relations, little pieces and then a complete whole. Friends and lovers lost. With the music in the background, I try to feel good about myself. I seem to be running out of thread to tie those fragments together, they cease to make sense now, but I am trying. Rewinding back, I think of the first man I met and then the last man I left. there are such strange similarities in people separated by almost a decade. Then I think of the only one I thought I loved, but oh the relief its absence gives me. There are times when I can't breathe, and then I feel free.
My Week With Marilyn, a beautiful movie. Marilyn Monroe lived like a disaster, and such a lovely one. The third assistant director falls in love with her, but what he doesn't realize until the end is that he was a fragment, a little sip of alcohol she took while crossing hundreds of bars. He intoxicated her for a little while, so she doesn't fall apart. It made me think of how relationships are in general. It's getting very common now, people leave. Like just abandon and leave. Drop others somewhere and just walk away, without a care in the world. I wonder if it even hurts them to see someone suffer now.
I do, sometimes. What's hard is to erase the touch, there's a warmth or cold chill that's left behind somehow. Some have been cold and disgusting even after years of efforts, and some just engrave themselves in you. Its like a mark left, a drink too strong a night a bit long. But you cannot forget either of them. Not even the fearful escapes and neither the guilty walkaways.
The poignant beauty of tragic endings leaves an impression. The Lover was unusual, very unusual. Its not glamorized like Lolita, neither does the girl wear bright red lipstick with heart-shaped glasses and sits under sprinklers reading fashion magazine. She is sad, just plain sad. Maybe that's why the movie seemed less appealing to many, because the sex encounters between the Japanese man and her were in a broken shack somewhere in a fish market. It had a way of defining and characterizing love. Nobody murders anyone, nobody dies...just an encounter of a 15 year old with a man much older. It is of course not for those who have a judging eye, and will discard it automatically as a pedophile romance.
I am in a pleasant state right now, busy working and making sense out of things. But there are some times when I look back at the people in those fragments, and wish for a comeback. But one learns to get comfortable with their messy arrangement. Its too comfortable, but things linger on. And maybe, just maybe, a decade down the line, I'd still be in a pleasant state, looking back at pictures and not feeling devastated. Instead a memory of those lovely warm touches will still seem fresh.
Though I wonder at times, what and who will I end up with, whether I will end up with anyone AT ALL. And then I am reminded of 25 more articles to cmplete!
Argh!
:-|
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