There was never a greater moment of happiness when I looked at my shadow on the wall while the piano was playing and I was singing at the top of my voice watching everything go by. There was never a bigger smile on my face, and I knew it for sure. The lights were changing and the stage was empty, and all around the voices churned. As somebody fiddled with the camera we leaped across the stage like children, scrawling words into the empty air. Sleepy faces were turned up towards the ceiling. I heard all this music flowing out, into the stage, into our heads and minds. Yet somehow at the other end of the stage hung a deep and pervasive sorrow. There is something tragic in silence, in juxtaposition, in contrast.
There will be no other time like this time. It is one of the greatest things in life, I think — to feel joy, and recognise it, at the very same time.
There’s a weight spreading heavily across my chest. The last jump, the last shout. That night I was the happiest I was in a long time, but my emotions are all mixed up and I’ve spent the past week not knowing what to think or do.
Tell me this is normal. Why do I always go searching for doomed endings. Be still.
It pains me a lot to say this. But part of me wishes I wasn’t here. This is really not funny at all.
Dear friends, I think we have a legend in the making.
I want to go shopping. I want to go to the beach. I want to just do nothing for a few days and rot in my bed. I want to be skinny. I want to go on holiday. I want to scream at someone or scream at myself, or, failing that, go into a Channel 8 induced bout of hysteria. Because there’s something growing in my chest that just can’t come out, I can’t breathe properly, and it’s just not right. I need something, just to tell me that I didn’t dream up an alternative life I thought I had but I didn’t, not at all, not in the slightest. Because I came back to something I thought I knew but I didn’t, not at all, not in the slightest.
Come back to me, my sense of purpose.
Thoughts that appear at 5am in the morning;
- The sooner you learn to accept people for who they are, the less trouble you will have with yourself. Why is everyone so worked up over things they cannot control?
- Why does this happen every week? I shouldn’t have drunk that coffee.
- I think I might be in love with the Eurasian guy who appears on 超级星光大道 to PK the contestants. But obsessions come and go, anyway.
- Something I read while filling my time with reports of serial killers (don’t ask): There are Mr. Rights, and then there are Mr. Right Nows. Mr. Right Now is the guy you think you’re in love with when you’re seventeen. Then you get knocked up and are forced to get married and suddenly it’s too late, when Mr. Right comes along. (And Mr. Right Now may just kill you if you leave.)
- There’s really just no way I’m ever going to appear in the morning bright and chirpy and eyebag-less. It’s a chronic failing. I like sleep. I like to have my own time. I like mornings. But to have all three is kind of impossible.
- I want to sleep now.
My friend says this is the best movie he’s ever watched in his life, and I think I can see why, even though we see the same things differently. For me, it was good — one of the better ones, in a long while — but it might have been because I had to sit through with a pounding headache that changed my perspective.
(Spoilers ahead; don’t read if you haven’t watched District 9.)
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