when it hurts so bad

So I am inlove. For the nth time. I'm trying to think that it's something else; something that could be mistaken as love but, in reality, is nothing in comparison with the said emotion. Ofcourse I was just hoping. The truth is I am really in love. Or atleast it feels like I am.

Normally, one becomes inspired when inlove. He or she tends to see only the beauty of a bad day, the light in the darkness. They tend to be manipulated by that strong emotion that they only see the other side of things.

Ofcourse this does not happen to me. I tend to feel otherwise. I tend to feel depressed. I feel like I shouldn't feel the love in the first place; that I am feeling the wrong kind of love for the wrong person. Most of the time, I try to just end the feeling, and most often than not, I fail in doing so. My friends would advise me to just let it be, to just feel it and get along with it. This way, it wouldn't hurt as bad, and wouldn't be as difficult to deal with. Those are just words, ofcourse. We all know that things are easier said than done. Experience taught us this. All the time.

And although I don't like the feeling of being inlove, and that I am very vocal on how much I want to stop it whenever I feel it, deep inside, and I am very certain about this, I want it. Because in all honesty, when it hurt so bad, sometimes, it really feels so good.

that road

Last month, I forced Nelmar, a friend of mine, to watch Revolutionary Road once it becomes available on the big screen here in the city. We both have seen the movie through our so called resources. I loved it right away on first viewing, and I was confident it would win major awards. Nelmar loved it, too, but not as much as I did. I wanted to still see it on the big screen because I thought it would be a totally different experience.

And it was. It was amazing. I loved it even more. (As a matter of fact, I am considering it to be my new number one. But there's Frost/Nixon, and not to mention my old favorites, so I am trying not to think so much about it. ) I am glad that Nelmar loved it more than he did the first time he had seen the film.

What is so great about the film is that it doesn't care about its audience. It is there to tell. It is almost a feel good not feel good film. I know it sounds crazy and confusing, but you probably get the idea. It is honest.

Funny how we think how a thing can be so beautiful without truly, in a sense, understanding it.

like mr. taxi driver

In Closer (which is, by the way, a great film), the beautiful Portman was photographed by Roberts. In one of the scenes, where a photo exhibit was held, Roberts' boyfriend asked Portman what she thinks of the photograph, her own. Portman told him that it was a lie; that it was a sad person photographed beautifully so that people can consider it art.

She has a point. What she didn't realize was that not everyone shares her views on art. That there are people who find the subject, that is the picture, beautiful not because it was taken with such artistry, but because the loneliness or sadness itself was captured. The truth, and its true essence, was captured.

This is the main reason why I love dark films, like Apocalypse Now, No Country For Old Men and the likes. Because sometimes, no matter how hard I try to see the beauty of every thing, I can't help but notice the ugliness and smell the filth of this so called life.

don't want to be in there

I have just finished reading David Foster Wallace's Wiggle Room. After reading the short story, which was featured in The New Yorker, I suddenly felt that familiar feeling. The feeling that always makes me feel sick. Not sick sick, but sick in a whole different sense. One that is far worse than being sick sick. And everytime I feel this way, I do not want to do anything but be home, and spend the rest of the day on my bed. Doing nothing. Not even thinking.

But I am not really sure if it was the story that bugs me. Maybe I'm just broken hearted. No one can be so certain about it. Not even myself. I'm not even sure if I am in love.