I'm out of time.
Yes, it is time.
I have been stressing to the people around me that if I had more time, I would do a lot of things I want to do and meet people I want to see.
For example, starting a small trip that I always wanted to continue before;
or escaping from the current situation for a certain date;
but in the end, I used this time to do my best in the company and it belonged to me or not belong to my work tasks, so as to dilute some of the blanks that I can't get around.
My subconscious mind is choosing a way to escape, so that I can avoid the predicament and graft the focus of my life on something less important.
This is a form of escape, and at the same time, it is also a kind of resistance for my better survival.
But often like this, I have similar dreams, all my constructions of life, like that house that fell from the sky, fell to the ground, shattered into rubble and dust.
Lately I seem to be open to conversation and willing to spend more and more time opening up and giving myself to others without reservation.
People I love and people who love me.
I remember walking on the road one day, I suddenly asked Mr. O, "How do you look at a passionate love that ends in three days, and a love that lasts for more than 20 years with eternal meaning?" Whenever such a topic is discussed , Mr. O will be habitually stunned for a while, and then give a very official answer in a state of high self-protection, "I don't think there is a difference between the two. It's just the speed and slowness of the heat release."
Love is relative In terms of the big picture of life, it is more like a variant of a derivative. After a period of love, people seem to fall into absurd nothingness, completely attached to each other, and we start to feel their joys and sorrows for our own.
This process of self-loss occurs in all people who are in love.
Under the extreme rationality, I can still trace the powerful and suffocating power hidden behind it from the sentence "I really want to be with him. If...".
After hearing such words and expressing extremely restrained emotions, those who pursue happiness, maybe even if they have a high desire for "love", they will become nothing.
"I really feel it." "I'm in love with you, this is the only thing you don't have to give back to me."
Then we hope to use it in this intoxicated but very revealing love, to forget our own existence, to love one.
Loneliness still exists in the process of falling in love with each other, but it is not based on the fragmentation of life, but continues to weave the suffering and self-torture of your love process. Everything seems so huge that it can devour itself. can be resolved.
In "My Private Idaho", which I watched many times in college, in addition to RIVER PHOENIX and KEANU REEVES, the director is more like borrowing "Henry IV" and the fate of many street cowherds to complete a A ceremonial carol.
Of course, when I was in college, I was a person with weak emotional perception. I didn't realize the gradual estrangement and closeness between the two protagonists behind the hidden layers of life texture.
But at that time, from the beginning of the film, I gradually tried to immerse my perception in that long street. It's like a morbid but seductive life of decadence.
RIVER was walking on the road, carrying his own luggage, and then looking at this unique road that seemed to be his own, he was lost on this fucking road.
This reminds me of a friend who likes to cry.
He couldn't stand the life of a person, and every dream about loneliness was a nightmare for him.
One day he woke up from a dream about loneliness and found himself in tears.
Then the next day, he decided to cheer up and come out of a frustrating state of life. Then try to let yourself forget, let yourself face everything that is about to happen in life, calm as water, but undercurrents.
I left a message under his feed, "Since you are not a person who can face it positively, why do you still insist on smiling."
It seems that a smile can make you reconcile with this sad life, and then you can forget it. In fact, it's just a perfect camouflage.
The character of RIVER is not a person who is actively facing life. The only hope in his heart is that crazy mother, the mother's love that exists in the illusion that abandoned him and cannot be obtained.
This maternal love is beautiful, at least, the mother will stroke his head and tell him in a gentle voice, "Live, everything will be all right." The
spirit must meet the darkness.
This is a true proposition, and this must also exist. And in the spiritual dimension, love has always become the main body of all our driving forces without knowing it, and it will run faster than the dark reality we live in. Before you have time to prepare, you will completely fall into love for someone, and before you have time to withdraw, the other party will announce the end first.
I always tell my friends, don't fall in love easily, just pretend there is an energy in my body that can control my emotions, but I know this energy doesn't exist, it's just a disguise of my rationality. It's so complicated that I can't even get close to the truth.
From the very beginning, RIVER's character fell into a fascination with KEANU's self-subversion. Unusual emotions with their own devastating, totally asymmetrical relationship of giving and taking. You can't expect absolute equality between two people in a relationship, because once you fall in love, you're in a position of lowliness and waiting to be pitied.
Of course he didn't want KEANU to ask for something to make up for the part he lost because of love. He can only shrink in his arms, hold himself, and humbly tell each other, I love you, you don't need to pay me. This is the part that made me cry the most in the whole movie.
Love is more like a one-sided fantasy than an emotion. The self-control originating from the depths of the heart begins to show the meager strength. You can't control yourself, and you will also feel, "Sometimes people will love, even if the other party does not give you equal feelings.
" Sex and the City, in which there is a segment that begins a column with the heroine, interviews many different samples on the street, and we always fall in love with the same people. Those who can't satisfy some aspects of our emptiness, but in some ways can take us beyond ourselves, and even beyond life.
I am sometimes lazy, too lazy to experience the state of two people in love, and to give a special meaning to the life of love.
I reckon that this seems to be destined, but in my body, a state of contradiction and symbiosis devours the feelings of another part of the self, as a part of nothingness.
This is the abused part of the love process.
I, like RIVER, prefer the feeling of being abused.
How long does it take for you to sense the sorrows and joys of others through your own sorrows and joys,
and then in the process of mutual perception, you feel that your heart no longer exists for anyone else.
Or maybe it's not a matter of time, but an illusion.
I don't really believe in the feeling of revealing true feelings, but my own bloody nature is often revealed in the face of some memories. After recalling the clue, it was as if I had been naked once in front of a stranger, and I felt ashamed.
So, can such a low profile in love play a certain seductive role, so that the person you don't seem to get started to be tempted?
"Have you lived your whole life in the lie you believed in?" When RIVER went to the garage to find his father, or his brother. He asked RIVER, who was gradually awakening from the convulsions. This has undoubtedly become a summary of RIVER's somewhat sad life.
What lies does he espouse? The hope of the living.
He yearns for mutual love, for a normal maternal love, for a healthy life, and for a way home with an end.
In other words, like everyone else, he wants to decipher these elusive things in our lives, as if he is exploring the texture in this black mass, not to say that it does not exist, but to hope that it is always in a form that we can't see clearly. exist.
If I were to say at this moment that love has a peculiar magic, you would surely find that to be an overly sensational assertion.
But if I convert a concept, "hope" has a special magic, you can understand the real meaning of what I am expounding.
And for me, "love" is just a specific form of hope.
In RIVER, we see love, but also desolation, a kind of desolation after KEANU, for his own principles and promises, with him and all the decadent lives announced; a kind of RIVER walking in the endless search for his mother On the road, and the friend who was regarded as his only hope, married a strange woman and lived a barren life.
I just want to try to interpret the story itself from RIVER's point of view, because in the face of the constant generation of things that extinguish the fire of hope in life, for me, I will also choose KEANU's choice.
In a certain way, we are gradually unable to bear the fearless love, a love that is too heavy.
If someone tries to put their whole life on a relationship, then there will be no room for the bearer, and the lust that comes from the body's instinct will also be dominated by this emotion. Become fearful and cowardly.
None of us can guarantee that we will spend our lives loving.
RIVER was left in Rome, like a man whose heart was hollowed out.
He leaned against a tree to do a stranger's business with a group of Italians. The director seems to be gradually shredding the development direction of the story into powdery pieces, and you can't help but feel that all the romance is lost in a hurricane.
The insignificant man died, and a group of insignificant people didn't know where to go.
At the old man's funeral, they tried to heal each other's grief with all their hoarse voices, but it was too difficult.
"My whole life, I've been savoring the road, and the road has no end. It probably surrounds the world."
After saying this last line, RIVER was in constant convulsions to the end, and then never got up again. Regardless of his body, which carries many death reincarnations, he is infinitely close to death.
Can there be a kind of miracle that allows people to find where they once started?
However, all the people and events I have experienced are telling me that life is a one-way development and there is no turning back. This last sentence of death prophecy is constantly revolving in the sky above the mind, and what is shrouded in it is the life of each of us.
None of us can handle life well.
I avoid talking about RIVER's own destiny in this article, or it may be because of the RIVER shaped by this film, the RIVER in life that has transcended.
On October 31, 1993, RIVER fell down just like the movie deduced. It was like following the endless road, which kept getting longer and longer, until it could never find its way back home.
Death is not a biological end, but more like a long resumption.
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