The rain is really coming down right now. So much for my late night run, I’ll just save the energy for the morning, though I’m sure the downpour will still be happening. Funny though, I just got back from The Perks of Being a Wallflower. It was playing at the Student Life Cinema on campus, and Jamie was going so I figured why not? Of course the movie gave me about nintey million feelings, and there were so many things I wanted to tweet but I think it might be too much, so instead I’m here and you get an unusual late night post from me.
First of all, I shouldn’t be surprised in the slightest that the night commenced in rain soaked Converse. Apparently this is the week for the fifteen year old self in my heart to thrive, and that shoe choice in this weather makes the most sense. It seems I’ve got a thousand memories from a decade ago of my life swirling through my head right now.
The moment when Ezra Miller is standing on the front porch as everyone departs from the Christmas party? He screams out I love you while his friends walk to their cars? Each time this scene reminds me of every high school Drama party I ever left. They always said I love you and to drive safe. Each time I would leave, regardless of what other angst was charging through my heart, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world, safe and comforted by the warmth of friendship. It was like a human security blanket being tossed over your shoulders. I always felt like, wow – these are my people. They care. (This memory always makes me think of the Jimmy Eat World song that goes “I fall asleep with my friends around me. The only place, I feel safe. I’m gonna call this home.”)
The last time I saw this movie in the theatre there were less than five others. I cried almost the whole time. I felt impossibly connected. It was like, hypnosis therapy and I was reliving events before my eyes. Except I was awake. And this was a fictional world. I left that theatre, albeit extremely happy about the movie – I thought I might explode with the insatiable desire to communicate face-to-face with another human being about all of it. This time was so different. Any movie at the SLC is interactive, and this was the same. The awws, the howls, the gasps, the applause – it changed the tone of things. Though, I didn’t sob this time, but I could still feel my eyes tear up.
And I still couldn’t help but feel each part of my life it makes me draw connections from.
As for the old 15 year old in my heart thing? This week, I listened to Something Corporate’s “Hurricane” in my room, thinking about life. Today I purchased a ticket to see The Postal Service. I watched Perks. Just typing this blog entry is characteristic of my fifteen year old self. Maybe typed out they don’t seem like much, but mentally the parallels feel enormous. I can’t help but think of monumental crushes. First real kisses. Mixed tapes. Endless numbers of days with friends. What it used to mean to hang out. Listening to music. Eating pizza. Doing absolutely nothing. Staring at the ceiling, talking about things felt tragically deep.
Some of it’s here, but it’s not all here because I’m not going to type all night. And I want to finish reading Ask the Passengers, and this rain will probably lull me to sleep soon.