My housemates have been ill, one, then the other, staying at home watching whatsoever's been netflixed on the couch. And so, one, then the other has been watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. And then I have been in and out with meetings and deadlines and band practices, and so I have seen Eternal Sunshine, which I have never seen before, piecemeal and in a distorted order. Fitting, I think.
It calls to mind complicated thoughts I've had about therapy and love and how the latter is so much more real than and dangerous to the former.
And really, I don't trust anything the former has to say about the latter.
And I probably never will.
When I think about the love I've had in my life, it's always been irrational... Love is a leap of faith. Love leaves you wide open to kinds of unhealth and pain and to a rational mind I feel like its often the first ballast to be cast off if it's not working...
fixing is an act of faith.
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