here’s another thought before I forget-
I want to write an analysis of Synecdoche New York. I love its theme of being present & its underlying motifs of pure experience-purely experiencing something or, on a grander scheme, experiencing life. It underscores our tendencies as a collective unconscious to wait for everything to end, of constantly bracing ourselves, counting, tallying, and dissociating.
I struggle to exist WITH other realities & instead think about them prematurely as some retrospect. While something is HAPPENING to me, I think about what it will be like when it’s over, for better or worse.
When things are nice & well & healthy & placid, I’m constantly pacing the corners of my mind & biting my nails as if every fine lull is a calm before a storm. I am never vulnerable to anything, not even those which make me happy in fear that when they’re gone, I’ll feel some loss of a thing as if every good thing should be mourned instead of celebrated.
I’m at least not deluded enough to recognize that these have to be commonalities & I am NOT a rarity. The only rarities exist some place unconscious. Rarity in realistic planes is illusion. I will say I KNOW this. I would say this is undeniable.
Despite that feeling you have, that commonality of the sensation of being watched as if your life was a movie, you aren’t & it isn’t a movie & no one is waiting for you to say the right thing & no one cares, but all for the better, never the worse.
