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Rxn to Becoming Jane
I just watched "Becoming Jane". I was on the verge of tears three times. But it was more of a thick mixture at my eyes that I quickly wiped away... At first I watched it because James Mcavoy was in it. Oh, how his face makes me swoon. But that's an addition to his acting. Impenetrably delectable, if that makes any sort of sense. xD I was inspired thrice to write. Most inspiring thing I've ever seen. Sends chills down my spine. Midst the whole thing, I knew she would never marry; she deserved it for being so avant-gaurd. So ahead of her time. It's more than a shame or a pity; more than tragic but I know not the word to articulate it. Perhaps a travesty that people know to be true. She who is deserving and tries for what she desires is she who will always belong to a time undeserving. I just cannot begin to feel. It's been so long since I've truly felt anything. I couldn't even empathize properly because my heart was buried someplace deep, somewhere midst my older self. I have a feeling I'll be up crying, doing homework, thinking, and scholarships. And I may rewatch the film again. Anne Hathaway was stunning. Her and Mcavoy stunned me; to say at the least. When something penetrates the soul as it should, does an artist know that one is accomplished and, if only for a moment, exemplary. *headdesk* Why can't I be a normal person, with normal worries, normal hobbies, and normal heart? Am I so lonely that I cannot see that people have these same complexes as I or am I simply too complex? It's ironic if the latter is so: I complicate myself to make myself seem... of worth? Am I really this way because of a series of days of resignation? Well, months. Do I regret the person I am? I used to say yes, one hundred times yes. But now I don't see the point. It's much... easier to find people of my accord now or perhaps I'm finally accumulating? I'll have to think that over. (I'm going to try to eliminate the words: I don't know/care from my mind in such a dreadful order. Along with umm and whatever.) I meandered from my point. I don't ever want to be so unfeeling that tears finally incite some sort of humanity in the medial most part of me. No, never again. It's unnacceptable to be loved and never love anyone in return. Monstrous in fact.
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