‘V for Vendetta’ came out on DvD today. of course i snapped it up immediately. made the mistake of watching it again… too soon. the initial viewing had me hyped up and sharing several days of deep thoughts with another. also brought a series of parallel/synchronicities that were, at the time, deeply meaningful and enjoyable to consider.
to watch it today was a profound mistake for the reminders it brought and the effect they had. sitting here with the anvil once more strung in my chest, i am angry with myself… i thought i was passed this. i thought it was safe. how long until it is safe, i wonder?
i was tempted to send a copy. i refrained, barely. “he is the man you want me to be.” this was the somewhat self-pitying end of things. he was both right and wrong, of course. not the man i wanted him to be, but the man i could see within him, and he could never find. didn’t want to, didn’t know how, too much like work, i suppose the list of reasons could go on a while. stopping here, though.
sad part is, i sit here wanting to watch the movie again. i want to feel every one of those synchronicities again. i want to rock and cry as i feel them, savor the happy memory and grieve that there are no more to have all at once. but it doesn’t seem a very good idea. i refrain. won’t be able to watch that movie again for a long time, if ever. so now i’m sitting here wondering why i bought it in the first place. only i know why… and it is part of my own special kind of fucked-up that i just haven’t found a way to release just yet.
i thought i was over the hurt. i’m not. i thought i was finished with aching. i’m not. i thought i was done crying. i’m not. i thought i could push it into a corner and ignore it until it finally went away. which i suppose i could do if i could manage to avoid stupid mistakes like this one.
i was tempted to send a copy. still tempted really. but there’s no point in it. no help in it. no purpose other than giving him a plate of my pain. not that he cares about my pain. not that he ever did. silly rabbit… so idealistic. keep thinking if he only knew how badly he’s hurt me, he would care, and would want to fix it, heal it.
he won’t, wouldn’t. i remind myself. yes. yes. i know. let it go.
i’m trying.