Back when I was a kid, during my days in Canada, I watched the Titanic for the first time, with my cousins Michelle and Steffi, my sister, my Mom, and my Auntie Roenna. It was pretty dreary and the concept was not easily grasped by my mind although I thought I’d already had. With this, I would always wonder to myself why girls in general would cry at movies, especially the romantic ones which were, in my opinion utterly dreary and quite the un-moving and unattractive type, as compared with movies about war and brotherly love combined. Those, and several other insanely awesome sci-fi movies, that I still enjoy and love to this day, to me were worth more than most drama films. With utter nonchalance I dared not disturb them other than to laugh or become annoyed at such a disturbingly silly display of affection towards a simplistic concept that rarely even varied.
I was a regular guy, who was more into fighting, action, sports films and what-nots. I’d never really felt anything for anyone during those early days. With the exception of my first love, Sarah, from my life I would have been the most utterly passive towards drama movies. Luckily, my life did have her, and by the time she had to move away to another country, my expectations and shunning of drama movies had stooped to a negative low. I was beguiled by drama, music, art, culture, dance, paintings, drawings, books, comics, movies, videos, plays. I had joined the glee club back in school (No relation to the Glee Series whatsoever). The moment that I saw her last, reminded me of a movie scene, somewhere in my vast memory of all the movies I’ve watched, in which case I do not recall the title. I was astounded as how real the movies could become if one were to portray it in their everyday lives. If one were to simply walk, talk, and view like the movies, then one would be living a movie everyday without paying a single penny/centavo. It is worth it, if you think about it. You may be caste-d out as weird or odd, but it will make life a bit more vibrant. Some of you would say that this is impossible and that movies are a fictitious shadow of real life, a reflection as some may say, where left is right and right is left. I say however, there is an extent to the fragmented truth that exists within movies, and it is rather large, and more or less appealing to many people, from shallow to deep thinkers alike.
Going back to the movie, I just re-watched it not an hour ago, and I am completely honest about this when I say I cried. A lot, and it always reminded me of a spark which I had carried all throughout my life. When I’d met Sarah, I was an average guy, very strong about things and very numb towards feelings, only capable of expressing it at home or through the pen, unless it was of physical pain with which I would cry at some point of intensity. There were of course, some emotional pains that made me cry to be honest, and my skin is kinda thick. But when we were together, every movie made sense. I had gotten involved with the movies each time I’d watched them, taking the scenes seriously, whether or not they were action or drama. I’d taken things to a whole new level, learning more about life and more about art than I’d ever did. All thanks to her, I’d become creative with my speech, my voice, my music, my mind. I would often times be inspired to create fictional worlds of entertainment and story lines for my action figures when I would play with them, and I would often times act out along with them, running around in my shorts with whatever toys I had at hand. Other times I would simply walk around in a circle, thinking and practically obsessing with story concepts, validations of life, and other godforsaken agendas that older people do not wish to re-live or at some times do not wish to fully comprehend. All because of her, and her ways. I loved her, and I’d cried for months after she’d left. It was a simple case of moving to another country, where I would not see her again, and yet it felt so complex and it dampened my mind long enough to stain my works with thoughts of despair all throughout my high-shool life and up to now. Indeed I’d thought of the many times and the many things I’d done, even those I find foolish and those I regret doing. Well, I realized a lot, thanks to her. I owe her my artistry.
For those of you who are wondering, no, I am not in touch with Sarah, and why is because we had agreed not to, and even though I want to break all form of rank and file in life, and all sorts of agreements we’d made, I still can’t find her on Facebook, nor on Tumblr, nor on various websites. I guess it’s just like Jack and Rose, with the minimal time we’d spent together, it had one of the most maximized effects on my life and how I lived it from then until today. I am drowning in sorrow, bliss, and love, all together and I hope you can bear with me for one last short paragraph.
As I realize it now, I laugh at myself, from years ago, for not pondering enough on this issue and chose to rather let go of it and forget. This turning point in my life signified something great, and I simply wish to raise a glass to the Titanic, and to my dear Ex-Lover, who is out there somewhere. Let’s all raise a glass. A toast! To my dear Sarah, and to the Titanic; may our love never falter, like that of Jack and Rose, and always know, you will always be in my heart and in my works. Indeed I love the both of you dearly, and to you, my dear Sarah, I owe my works.