bee-york

Can I tell you something? Even if I may be repeating myself?

What scared me about the auto accident in Paraguay was how completely I fell apart. J, who was experiencing the same thing, had to take care of me. I couldn't stop crying until I fell asleep in the crazy van ride back to Asuncion. The next day I couldn't stop crying for hours. Sometimes I still cry now and I'm not sure why.

I wrote a paper for my English class about how I didn't know how to deal with this because it's so dramatic. I live for cinema but I don't want to be living grandiose cinematic moments. Life is absurdist, life is banal and I love every bit of that. It's all I want.

A few years ago a friend ask me to watch Elephant (2003). It's about a school shooting, but the shooting doesn't happen until the last 15 minutes of the film. The first hour just follows average high schoolers through their average day. S asked me to watch with him because I was the only person he knew that could be happy and find meaning if the whole film were nothing but quotidian. It's true. I just wanted to keep watching the kids in photo journalism developing their prints. I didn't ever want to get to the climactic moment.

This isn't to say I'm still a complete wreck. I no longer feel shaky like everything could dissolve at any moment to leave me floating in a lonely fog, I no longer hold my breath when I go over a bump in a car, I no longer stare dumbly at people when they ask me to tell them stories of Paraguay. I can even talk about the accident out loud now if I have to.

I just still don't know what to think. I just still feel vulnerable as h. I feel how much I need people which is a weird thing for a recluse like me. 

Can I also tell you how much I love you?

sincerely,
Marge