My sister went through this period recently where for about a month, she watched the movie The Notebook every damn day. I'm still questioning her teenage sanity level. Every day I would walk into the living room and get pulled into the story: standing frozen, mid-step, or slowly sinking onto the edge of a chair. I would last all of 10 minutes, tops. Then I would begin to feel this heavy feeling take over my entire body, starting in the core of my chest, spreading outward. Then I would realize what I was getting myself into, and I would bolt out of the room, cursing myself, the movie, and my sister.
I have read the book. It made me cry.
And I love sad love stories.
Or I did.
Now I just want to avoid them and the whirlwind of emotion that comes along with them. I want to climb into bed, pull my comfy blanket over my head, and curl up in a tight, shatter-proof ball.
I started The Time Traveler's Wife a year or so ago. I got so busy with grad school that I didn't finish it. I fully intended to so that I could watch the movie (looks fantastic), but now? Now I don't think I can.
I bought the movie PS I love you for myself. I can't even open the damn DVD box.
I saw The Descendants a couple of months ago. I was not aware of what it was about, apparently. But as soon as the main character found out his wife had been cheating on him, that heavy feeling started in my chest. All the emotions I had felt when my ex said he wanted a divorce? All back, stretching out with cold fingers to fill my body. It gave me little comfort to know that obviously others have felt all that I have felt the last 2 years, or at least similar things. I sat paused, barely breathing, during the entire movie. And I was silent for a good 2 hours after the movie was done.
Saw Crazy Stupid Love soon after. What the hell was I thinking? Another movie where I sat frozen, the only movement my tears sliding down my face, lying to rest on my collarbone.
It's taken all this time for me to figure out that what I want so desperately is also what scares the shit out of me. One in the same. I am both drawn and repelled, a magnet with polar ends, constantly spinning out of control when pushed too closely towards the right field.
I listen to music to calm myself. I read. I write. I tell myself over and over until I am hoarse, that it will be okay, go slow, leave the past behind, smile, breathe.
Sometimes I feel as though I am the only one dizzy with the spinning.