Last night I had the divine pleasure of watching The Perks of Being a Wallflower with Natalie and her roommates and some of their friends. The movie was fantastic. The acting is powerful in its simplicity. Logan Lerman, Emma Watson, and Ezra Miller play believable high school students; they are not overacting but they keep their characters alive and interesting. Logan Lerman especially impressed me with his depiction of mental crisis that comes from depression and the attempt to express emotions as you're digging them up.
It was just how I used to talk.
*Spoilers Alert*
I loved this movie. Partly because of the acting. Mostly because it was my high school experience (except I never punched anyone in the face or had a best friend kill him/herself). Dating older girls, experimenting with my sexuality, performing in seemingly off-color shows, parties, walking in on friends and secrets, accidentally falling in love with my best friend, trying to feel alive, sometimes feeling infinite, late meals at diners, going to dances and wishing I was anywhere else, getting high and losing a couple days from my life, and everything else that I will not go into too much detail on. It is a happy story that just happens to have some very sad bumps, just like life. My yearning question is why Charlie had to end up in a mental hospital after he tried to kill himself and why I did not. It does not stand to reason that I just got lucky.
Ultimately, I decided that it was inspired friends. That next day was rough, but people still walked down the halls with me before school. Robyn heard from Natalie and freaked out. She convinced me to talk to my parents. Now, out of everyone that knew, their response was the worst possible. My parents got angry. I understand that it was from fear, so I did not respond too poorly, but it really bothered me that they stopped listening to my problems and just threw out general solutions. It felt like they gave up, like they did not trust themselves enough to help me. But I still loved them and wanted their help, not some psychologist's. And that week, Merritt asked me what was up. He walked home with me as I told him everything going on. I am sure he was quiet because he had no idea what to do. But that was enough for me. If he could just listen and not treat me differently then everything would be alright. And ultimately it has been. Almost eight years ago I tried to take my life and did not want to wake up. Now I enjoy waking up (even if getting out of bed is a bother) and look forward to my day. Life is good and God really does love us.
There are parts of me that I am so glad are dead.
It was just how I used to talk.
*Spoilers Alert*
I loved this movie. Partly because of the acting. Mostly because it was my high school experience (except I never punched anyone in the face or had a best friend kill him/herself). Dating older girls, experimenting with my sexuality, performing in seemingly off-color shows, parties, walking in on friends and secrets, accidentally falling in love with my best friend, trying to feel alive, sometimes feeling infinite, late meals at diners, going to dances and wishing I was anywhere else, getting high and losing a couple days from my life, and everything else that I will not go into too much detail on. It is a happy story that just happens to have some very sad bumps, just like life. My yearning question is why Charlie had to end up in a mental hospital after he tried to kill himself and why I did not. It does not stand to reason that I just got lucky.
Ultimately, I decided that it was inspired friends. That next day was rough, but people still walked down the halls with me before school. Robyn heard from Natalie and freaked out. She convinced me to talk to my parents. Now, out of everyone that knew, their response was the worst possible. My parents got angry. I understand that it was from fear, so I did not respond too poorly, but it really bothered me that they stopped listening to my problems and just threw out general solutions. It felt like they gave up, like they did not trust themselves enough to help me. But I still loved them and wanted their help, not some psychologist's. And that week, Merritt asked me what was up. He walked home with me as I told him everything going on. I am sure he was quiet because he had no idea what to do. But that was enough for me. If he could just listen and not treat me differently then everything would be alright. And ultimately it has been. Almost eight years ago I tried to take my life and did not want to wake up. Now I enjoy waking up (even if getting out of bed is a bother) and look forward to my day. Life is good and God really does love us.
There are parts of me that I am so glad are dead.
