Monday, January 14, 2019

IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK

I went to see If Beale Street Could Talk. The opening scene was magical, they were in color-coordinated outfits, but not so matching that it would look intended, although of course, it was intended to be just so by the costumes department. He was wearing a denim jacket with a yellow undershirt, and she wore a yellow coat with a blue dress. It was an epic love story, and the dialogue was strong. I shipped them so hard, and it reignited my hope in love. The cinema laughed really loudly at times, despite the difficult story, the banter was so believably humorous. Still, I felt it was missing a little something. I'm not sure what, I'd heard so much hype about it and I'd expected to cry, but I didn't. Perhaps the book will make me cry. I didn't feel moved as much by the political position of the film, perhaps because I was simply too focused on their one powerful, immense love story. I had two scoops of gelato, one was cinnamon and the other peanut butter, from a coffee shop called Clever Blend. The gelato was delicious, I daresay in the top three of gelato I have had in life. I got myself a dose of sunshine. Yet, despite seeing a good film, despite eating ice-cream, I was not happy. Breaking up sucks, and trying to pretend I'm not affected is clearly whacked. We broke up because I was facing issues, I didn't have friends here, and life here is uncertain for me. In the past week or so, I've tried to convince myself that it's okay, I'm okay, we'll be okay, but of course I'm sad. I loved him for the good part of a year. When something ends, you want to blame something or someone, and yet I can't. I wanted so badly for him to be stable and strong enough for me, but he wasn't, and I cannot blame him for it. He wanted badly for me to be happy, he didn't acknowledge his feelings nor discussed them with me. I remember when I first ranted about the ass weather, about it raining my entire first weekend here, about myself hating constantly being wet and cold, he somehow took it upon himself to make me feel better. Like I thought the weather was his fault. He said he wanted everything to feel right, that I'd done the right thing by making the move to New York, and I know that's why he didn't surface any of his feelings of unease. I feel sad, because instead of being in his arms now, I have to come up with reasons why we didn't work with each other. I loved him before I ever met him. Fourteen months before we ever met, I already loved him, and to say that I'm okay, is not true and isn't right. He's not the bad guy in this story. He may not be strong enough to carry me through this, but he's not a bad guy. And that sucks. It's harder to move on when you know you inherently love someone but it can't work out. I'm feeling so many things. I'm feeling sad from the loss of a love, I'm feeling lonely and isolated, I feel a general moodiness at the weather, I'm feeling completely overwhelmed by having moved across the world. I need to connect with more people, and I want a meaningful connection. I just want to feel okay again.

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