in this heartbreak world where nothing matters

i did see 'high fidelity'. this was the second time i'd seen it, though i'd wanted to see it again since the first time i did, which i recall was when i was 16. i'm glad i waited this long, and somewhat surprised at how prescient my 16 year old self seemed to be. there was absolutely no reason why i should have enjoyed it when i first saw it. i couldn't possibly have seen anything in that movie that related to my life.

perhaps when i was younger i wanted to be like rob. this was not long after i first started to like music, movies and girls, and rob's life didn't seem that bad. it all ended well for him in the end. his record store is still there, he revitalized his career as a DJ, and became somewhat of a record producer. and most importantly, he got the girl. his life worked out. if i had his life, 16-year-old me would have been quite happy.

but 22-year-old me is afraid to become like rob. like all of hornby's characters, he was a man who couldn't grow up. this is a man struck by the fear of who he is becoming, and like a deer caught in the headlights, decided that inertia would be the best course of action. the plot is driven by an action that causes him to reevaluate who he is, and come to terms with himself. but all this happens when he's 30-something. he's spent half his life not knowing what it is that his life is about.

16-year-old me couldn't possibly have appreciated that. when you're 16, 30 might as well be a century away. adulthood was something that happened later. but now that 30 seemed quite likely to happen, you realize that adulthood is something that you do, that it is something that you have to bring about. all its hopes and fears, all its mysteries and difficulties is suddenly thrust upon you.

looking beyond june, there is huge amorphous mess that is supposed to be the rest of my life, but i'm not ready for it at all. and if i don't start coming to terms with it, i'm going to become like rob. it'll be all too easy to coast through life, going from one crisis to another until it becomes all too much, whenever that is.

in one of the more memorable scenes of the film, rob talks about how he was one of those people who, at age 26, worried that they would be left alone for the rest of his life. i'm one of those people who feel that way at 22. it's so much easier to feel that way when you seem caught between two shores, when you have no idea who you were and who you are supposed to become, detached from where you came from and where you are going to. no one ever said things would be this hard. they should have. i might have been less ready to say yes.

and after writing the above, i went and took an ill-advised trip down memory lane. there's something wrong with me i feel. i am incapable of feeling sad anymore. like proper sad, the kind of feeling that you get in response to terrible things happening. i don't feel that. all i have is that gutted feeling, that depression that comes not because i'm upset at what happened, but my inability to do anything. it feels like the air has been pushed out of your chest, and you can't quite breathe, but you have to just stand there and take it.

strangely, i shouldn't feel anything like this. these are things i should be seeing in a new light, but i'm incapable of that as well. it's almost as if the pieces of our lives stay static, and there's only so little that can be done to reevaluate them. logic and memory don't work that well together when it comes to your personal truths.

on the bright side, and with extreme narcissism that i'm not known for, i can be a fucking good writer when i decide to be.