Cinema Language’s review published on Letterboxd:
Let’s get this straight out of the way: this won’t be a review. And I don’t like hiding behind my finger so I’ll also say straight off the bat: today was one of the shittiest days in recent memory. So no this won’t be a review, but it will be a sob fest. A rant about life - maybe a cry for help in hiding but even I can’t know. All I know is I’d appreciate maybe taking 5 minutes to read through.
I can’t say what has happened today. But to sum it up, half the day today was going great. It was the page’s 4th anniversary - and, considering I was considering quitting abruptly merely a month or two ago, I was happy about it. Seeing everyone react positively to the anniversary helped as well. All the reactions brought smiles to my face. I felt great for a while - watching a film I’d long wanted to watch, listening to good music, having a good shower. I spoke with friends earlier today; and I often referred back to one specific text I got in the morning:
“Have a great day”
It wasn’t anything groundbreaking. It’s something I say all the time, and I mean it most. I’d hear it very often too - even if it was in response to the very same wish made by me. Still I kept thinking about that one text, going back to it. But I didn’t think much of its significance despite the reverb that echoed throughout my mind all day long. But again, I didn’t think much of it since, again, the day was going well for a while.... until it wasn’t.
In the evening something happened. Again I cannot say what it was. But in that moment my heart raced and I was thinking the worst thoughts. I felt anxiety that I hadn’t felt in a long time. This one thing happening would last over the course of the evening. It’s just... one of the most wrecking things I’d witnessed in my life. From 4pm to almost 12am. I didn’t know what to do. In that moment I was frozen and felt nothingness, yet the aftermath hit me unlike anything else. My body started shaking. I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn’t believe it - I still can’t. I’m no stranger to horrid events because I grew up all around them - but this I wouldn’t wish for anyone to see.
This was bad enough to send me over the edge for a bit, but coming back home was the final blow. Yet another something happening - in a day where it felt like Murphy’s Law was constantly looming over my head. This something entailed responsibility; it entailed commitment; it entailed risk and heartbreak; and that frightened me. I was short of breath and my legs were numb. There was a thought lingering in my mind: “how the fuck did I get to this? What the fuck do I do?” So I headed to bed early and hoped to sleep my pain away. It did not work. Here I am, now, at 2am writing this. I felt like I hit a deadend.
And in that moment of desperation, something crossed my mind. It was this film, this short. I wasn’t sure why - I hadn’t thought about it in, like, months. But the thought crossed my mind and I instantly felt the urge to watch this again in bed (this wasn’t the first time the film would help me pull through dark times either to be honest). And so I did. And I wept. Nearly through the whole film, I wept. A rush of emotions flooded my body and I couldn’t contain the tears. At the end of the day, this felt like the warm embrace I desperately needed. I felt whole again - even if I know right now that I will wake up in the morning and the troubles will still be there.
But merely watching this helped me rationalize my feelings. My life is a fucking mess. How I wish I could just go back to 2019 and live there forever. I miss being with friends; I miss going to the theater; I miss living life feeling I could conquer the world; I miss not having a worry in mind and living in blissful ignorance; I miss my father; and I miss my grandparents, god bless their souls. But no matter how much I miss it, watching this helped my find the answer to the question above (“how the fuck did I get to this?”): what’s it fucking matter. I can never go back. I can only accept what’s happened now. And even I don’t like it, I’ll have to live with it. And that’s just life.
ANIMA once again helped pull me out of a dark hole. Thank you Thom and Paul.