What i see in this film-captured moment is one of hope, of expectations, of family love, of friendship, of big dreams and bigger potential (haha @ the ego).
But the thing is, what film doesnt capture is the moment after, or more aptly the many many moments after, months later. the roller coaster cycle of emotions, of dejection then a shocking revelation, a temporal relief and excitement then the cruel realisation of lost hopes, the loosening grip on those expectations and hopes that were once pinned upon this very photo. I wish i could go back, to that day. God knows how differently i'd have relived those days. just half a year, to make up for all those lost opportunities.
I really want to move on from this rut, but i know i can't and i never will . it feels almost like i'm that tortured soul that Leonardo DiCaprio portrays in his characters Teddy Daniels in Shutter Island and as Dom Cobb in Inception, minus the good looks and glamour. It's like i'm swinging back and forth between hellhole state and almost out of it state. like a volatile substance.
But i know i'll never relive this part of my life, and the cruelty of that is honestly killing me softly everytime i sit on it. I know this will likely be the regret of my life, and it is so hilarious that my very "success" mocks my disappointing lack of realisation of the potential i had. So no matter how much my friends say that God has a plan, i see none; no matter what my family say about how it is fine because i still have time, I don't have any because Time itself can't be had can't be possessed can't be controlled; no matter how much my sis says she can help well this whole thing hinges on how much i dont want help because i need to do it by myself for myself more than anyone and i missed that train because of, myself. The stupidity of it all is alarmingly ironic. i think thats the right word.
so i suppose, three cheers for self-destruction.
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