The End of Things

It all happens once I get up from the couch. I get up and instantly lose balance. I'm probably just sleepy. I better go to bed. Perhaps, watching a film, as strange as "I'm Thinking of Ending Things" has this effect on its viewers, or at least on those who get sucked in the film's world more easily. 

I feel misplaced. My steps get weaker and weaker. By the time, I approach my bed, I feel like I'm much older, frail, and futile, just like Jake's parents in the film. I feel as if someone is pressing against my head as if someone is taking revenge by cornering me in the most alienating way. I know things are happening around me, but I have lost touch. Or they're getting further and further. I bump into the bed. I have to find socks to wear. It's getting cold, but I need fresh air: Windows wide open, shivering, and feeling out of breath. Pacing up and down the room, in circles, hoping I keep my balance and by walking, I let go of my piling stress bit by bit. 'Why am I panicking? Have I lost all control?'

I can't hear them. They want to help, I know. But I'm entirely disconnected and hostile, like a forceful wind that blows at you, in constant motion, untouchable, unreachable, and incomprehensible. In a state of utter panic and lack of control, I bend down: 'maybe I can vomit and feel better!' 

Always, there is hope. As someone in the film said: 'we, humans invented hope, because we can't live in the moment, unlike animals.' I believe that's true. Now I have a tingling sensation in my hands and toes. At last, something, someone is communicating with me, my own fingertips, and toes. They're the only things I am hearing, or rather sensing. I wear another sweater and hug myself, holding on to the only body that is audible and visible to me. I hold on tight. 

About four hours pass by and I finally fall asleep. I wake up, feeling like the old building I live in, is transformed into a young lady in high heels. It's taking off to go to a party. It's taking me with it, moving me around, back and forth, moving me fast and slow, like I'm a handbag, or a phone like I'm nothing more than a lipstick like I’ve never been more than a lipstick, a useless accessory item, which gives ‘hope’.