the effect tragedies have on me

{i wrote this very shortly after watching wuthering heights while the emotions were still raw. i withdrew from posting because i felt like i had some thoughts to complete about this first. i was trying to understand my own perception of the desire of wanting to feel, even if that feeling is painful. i am revisiting this writing and it still rings true.}

i watched wuthering heights twice when it came out

i left the theatre a complete disaster both times, as many of us did

i read a lot of opposing opinions of the film online

what was left out from the book, key themes that didn’t translate, things that were missing

i can’t speak to any of that as i haven’t read the book

all i know is what it made me feel, through a fresh lens

and both times, i felt it to my core

of course there is the obvious luxury of staring at margot robbie and jacob elordi for two hours and sixteen minutes

but more than that, i measure how much i love a movie by how deeply it rearranges me, how captivated i am, how much it makes me analyze my own life and start to look at everything differently

i want it to widen my lens. i want it to disturb me a little. and did this one ever

i felt like i was right there, in their relationship

inside their longing and destruction. i felt their pain in my own chest

it made me want to never quit until i find someone who would lick the tears off my face

despite how tragic their story ends, despite how physically ill it left me, i keep replaying the movie soundtrack just to prolong the feeling

even if that feeling is ache

the film left me angry for them, that there is nothing after to their great love story. that they didn't get another chance

i cannot comprehend the idea that some stories just end. that’s it. no resolution. no explanation. and that the universe owes no one an explanation

most of the time it’s just a deck of cards

i have such a hard time with this

watching catherine and heathcliff love each other in a way that is so obsessive and all consuming. he tells her he would break her husband’s neck if she asked him to

as morbid as this is, still, there is something in me that longs for this type of intensity. don't we all?

but then i think, maybe not

because with that much love comes that much devastation. you see what they become when they lose each other

heathcliff turns monstrous

catherine throws herself into a depression that quite literally kills her

it’s fiction, yes. but devastation of heartbreak is not

and then i begin to understand why some people choose numbness. why some people turn off and go through life with walls up

knowing how love can destroy you, maybe it's safer not to love at all

but this makes me even sadder

because what terrifies me more than heartbreak is the idea of a life not fully lived

feelings not fully felt. experiences missed

the story just coming to an end, like catherine's did

this makes me start to feel claustrophobic

at the thought of being still

it makes my skin physically itch at the thought of heathcliff believing cathy was intentionally ignoring his letter

and her passing on thinking he didn’t care

doesn’t this translate into the way we express ourselves?

speaking our truths, despite their ever so tragic fate

it makes my skin itch to think of never sending the letter to begin with

never saying the words you mean, or want to say

regardless of the outcome

(if they ever receive the letter at all)

at least it was said

at least it was felt

at least it was lived

i cannot grasp the idea of my story, or anyone’s story for that matter, ending without having immersed ourselves in it as deeply as possible

i can sympathize with the desire to numb

but i dont think i ever could

it will always be worth it to me to feel everything

to risk devastation

to risk heartbreak

to risk loving too much

i refuse to become a zombie

dead to the beautiful wonders of sunshine this world offers

later on, the more i tried to understand what was so captivating to me about this film

although i did love the movie

i think i watched it in a time where life felt bland

i don’t think i was just craving love

i think i was craving feeling alive again

watching that film didn’t just make me think about romantic love

it made me think about life

it made me want to walk to the beach just to feel the life under my feet. to lie in the sand and feel completely content with the present moment. to stop rushing

it made me want to have the utmost admiration and pay deep attention to all of the things we get to feel in this life, good or bad. to be so present in all moments because life is so fleeting

to painfully pay attention, to everything, and nothing

to admire the ordinary miracle of just being in a body. and being able to feel

even when it is oh so painful

i am far more afraid of a life unlived than any pain i might endure

maybe that’s naive. maybe i haven’t experienced the kinds of tragedies others have

but even knowing how it ends, even after watching it unravel in the most devastating way

i still leave the theatre longing for that kind of love

maybe that’s the point, that some things are worth feeling, no matter what they cost

love ave