To state the obvious, movies are all Hollywood glam. People devote their entire lives to creating story lines and movie sets, spending millions for every production. The actors spend hours in costume and makeup, making sure every blemish is concealed correctly, and that every hair is in place.
Reality is nothing like that. There’s no clear direction in which your life is going, you have very little people that will be there with you every step of the way, and no one is going to prep you to look your best every morning.
But you already knew that, didn’t you? As soon as we emerge from the idealistic period of childhood, we’ll have a little less faith in the truth claims of movies. We’ll learn to be more skeptical of perfect couples and happy endings, and of flawless skin and thigh gaps.
I figured today that especially for high schoolers, a lot of drama and change takes place inside of the head. Of course, we go out and have fun, and we spend time with people we enjoy. But rarely are our lives entirely partying and action; more often than not, we do homework and write papers and stress about college. The majority of that stress and personal change happens inside of the head, and movies just have a hard time depicting that.
Even if they could, that would be a really boring movie, because the main character would just sit on their computer or lie in bed with a strained look on their face, and go out only on weekends, like the average kid does.
There is no compromise. Once we deviate from the norm of reality, we sacrifice its authentic element. That’s essential to differentiating real life from the movies.
That’s my little epiphany of the day.
She sits in a movie theatre and watches the main character die from the last row from the left most seat a tragic death that seems to shake the entire audience except her. The movie ends and she descends the steps one by one impassive stoic her face is dry. She comes back and sits in her bed She sits in the silence and watches another movie whose screen exists between pages of a book a spine whose binding is flimsy. sniffle sniffle She starts to cry for people she's never met whose faces she has never seen whose parents she has never met whose hands she has never held That's compassion for humanity. Her hands are bloody the skin are her nails is destroyed from stress and agitation. He holds them firmly and says I love you despite your flawed hands. hesitates, backtracks, and recants his words I love you for your flawless hands and your capricious emotions and the way you deal with your feels that your hands display the message receive the clemency. She goes back to the kitchen tea or coffee? glass or mug? pinky or no? Suddenly, she remembers the war Anguish and fury rush back to sting her Her hands are warm and she watches the color slowly disperse. Placidity counters the fury. Sympathy balances the anguish. Her hands are warm, but her heart is worn. Her mind is lethargic She lets it all go imagines it floating away this way that way out of sight, out of mind All of her efforts are spent wasted on impotence and structural barriers She wants to care, but she just can't afford to anymore. - inspired but not really much more aligned with the Daily Prompt