Is there no greater tragedy than life itself? Is there no greater comfort than death? To make amends with our existence we fool ourselves into thinking that we are much more important than we are. The solipsistic enterprise knows no recessions. But realize that we are born into a losing struggle, one in which there can be no victory.
The night I cried myself to sleep, turmoil faded into darkness. I realized that my life was going down a road that I feared travelling, and I had no control over it. I was trapped in a speeding car, the doors were locked, and there was no way I could get out of it. At best, my vain attempts could only slow it down and give myself more time to avoid the inevitable. Hope seemed so out of reach, but it forced me to search for another road I could have turned onto.
When one is full of emotion, clarity of thought gets fuzzy. Being all alone and crying in the midst of one of life's many despairs, I thought of the possibility that I might not be alone, that I might somehow be watched over by some caring force, something that could sympathize with my plight. Was this wishful thinking? Was this the reason why so many of us want there to be a spirit force out there that knows and understands what we're going through when we know that no one else does?
I can certainly see the appeal in wanting there to be a shoulder to cry on when there isn't one. No one's tragedy really wants to go unnoticed, but I personally just couldn't bring myself to accept such metaphysics. I don't do well with wishful thinking. I prefer the coldness of reality over the preference of fantasy. It is a sad idea that one can die alone and unloved but I accept that it's true. Love is perhaps the only light that pierces the darkness of the tragedy that ultimately becomes our lives.
So the night I cried myself to sleep I could easily see why someone going through the same troubles would want a sympathetic heart beating along side them, or at least a loving presence. I had realized that this is why religion so powerfully endures: religion is so inextricably tied to our most fervent human emotions.
A Brief Review of The Babadook
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