I just finished watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It was beautiful. (And not just because of Kirsten Dunst, although that helps.) At the end, the two meet again and realize that they know what will happen. They know all the things they will come to feel toward one another. They know they’re star-crossed, because it’s already happened. But what does it matter? It’s what they want, what they need. They live it over again.
I agree with that philosophy. I believe the process justifies the end. If the interim period is bliss, then it was worth it even if it all burns away in the end. We do what we need. It’s life, and it makes getting through better. And there are the memories that I wouldn’t trade for the world…I can think of far too many of them right now. The end not being some stereotypical “success” doesn’t scare me.
What scares me is that in the movie, there’s always another chance. And in life, the cycle runs out.
I remember the first time. The first beautiful days together, the first months where things fell away. I thought that was the end, and I acted like it. But like the flowers, it died in the winter to come to bloom again in the spring. The cycle continued. Days again…God, I’ll love Children 18:3 forever for reasons that have nothing to do with their music…Days apart again. I didn’t think that would repeat. But now I know. It’s life. There are more important things in life — at least, more pressing things in life. We have different goals, locations, circles of interest…different everything except personalities, which are far too similar.
It will continue. And that’s why tonight I just wanted to forget it. When all I could feel was the urge to pick up a phone and use the number etched in my fingers and my muscle memory and, conversely, the fear that it wouldn’t do any good. That there wasn’t time, or there wasn’t a point, or there wasn’t really anything to say. I know that even if it blossoms again it will die in the winter. And right now it’s the winter, and I have to feel like I should be doing something without any sign that this is indeed the case. And I have to long for this…I have to want something more than my life here, which would be fine if I could be content with it. I wouldn’t feel lonely now if I hadn’t felt something extraordinary before. And I thought if I could forget the exhilaration, the total captivation that still haunts me, I could just leave it all behind and be happy with everything that comprises my current existence.
But now I don’t want that. I’m still shooting for the moon. And I don’t have a problem with ultimate failure. I just wish I would be able to keep trying forever. But I know that some time — maybe even this time — it will be the last time. And then I will try to make it work inside my own head forever with no chance of bettering the world around me.
And when I’m out of second chances, then I might as well have forgotten.
