I have just officially sobbed my way through the "The Hunger Games". Now, I don't want to turn this into some big gushing blog post about the fantastic depiction of the book, or how damn sexy Josh Hutcherson is. I mean, he is drop dead beautiful but lesbehonest people -- I'm a 19 year old chick from da Yoop. I have no chance. But moving on.
Because that's not the point, at all. The point is that it (the movie) somehow hit home. That for some reasons (besides me being an emotional wreck, as always Hannah would say) there was something that just made me feel....vulnerable. You could say that the producers succeeded then, in making me feel my connection to the film. That the actors embodied their characters so completely that there isn't even a blurred line between fact and fiction.
But I don't think that's true at all. I think the whole premise is what got me. Because life is a movie, in that dumb comparison of sorts. That there is always going to be that blurred line between fact, fiction, and that heart stopping thing called life in between.
I think it was the fact that even though Panem might not be happening in America, not everyone has it easy as we do. That out in other parts of the world, that survival game we play as boy scouts is real. That the difference between making it another day lies in the fact that you know your shit. That life or death isn't just a heart wrenching statement before a big basketball game, but something that could really become a true statement.
To see someone so who loves someone enough to literally give their life for them. I can honestly say, as much as sometime my mom doesn't think so, I'd do it for anyone in my family. Sitting there, watching someone (even a fictional person) give the ultimate sacrifice made my chest tighten. Because I knew too well I'd do the same thing for my bearded beast of a brother sitting right next to me. That I wouldn't hesitate. Watching it felt like I was making that choice, right then.
To have to say goodbye to someone who matters, to have to accept that life sucks. To cry until your chest hurts because you can't, won't, will not imagine a day where you can't call and tell them about how your day was. Or sit and watch TV with. Or eat Swedish pancakes, dill pickles and grilled cheese until you could die.
To be at that point, where you just want to forget. To start again, and forget that you ever had a sad day, or a broken heart. That every day brings a new challenge, a new attempt to making things go better then the first time. Like you've got an endless re do button urging you on to the next chapter, knowing that each redo comes with the sunrise of a new day.
That we, are all human. And we don't always make the best decisions, or the easiest.
I don't know if this was one of my deeper, more intellectual blog posts. Maybe it was just the way I needed to organize my thoughts. That maybe the Hunger Games was just the push to maybe throw out some of this jumbled mess I call my brain onto the internet. God knows how great the internet is.
Either way, I needed it.
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