Suffice it to say, the reality of emotions, the reality of pain, the expectation of the object upon which liberation depends, and the pain of playing the self-defining "self" and the joy of playing the ""role"" that can be played at will. How to get rid of it? The concept of "I" needs to be reconstructed. I will not always be that pain. Although some pain is hard to forget, it can still not be the painful self, but can enter another "self" through acting. .
Whichever is true, once it happens, it is true.
Although I think the line below is right, the reason why it can't touch me deeply is that I have already dispelled the concept of "self". At the same time, the understanding of this pain still makes me have complex feelings about it. Although it can no longer make me suffer so much, it can still impact me and make me sick.
Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make; you can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won't know for twenty years. And you may never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say there is no fate, but there is: it's what you create. And even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years , for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes or it seems to but it doesn't really.And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope that something good will come along. Something to make you feel connected, something to make you feel whole, something to make you feel loved. And the truth is I feel so angry, and the truth is I feel so fucking sad, and the truth is I've felt so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long I've been pretending I'm OK, just to get along, just for, I don' t know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own. Well, fuck everybody. Amen.ve felt so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long I've been pretending I'm OK, just to get along, just for, I don't know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own. Well, fuck everybody. Amen.ve felt so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long I've been pretending I'm OK, just to get along, just for, I don't know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own. Well, fuck everybody. Amen.
View more about Synecdoche, New York reviews