For these past few months, I’ve been imagining myself creating a film. I know nothing of it- what it would entail, where I would begin, whether I would write or film it. Taking classes have taught me how to watch a film, but I believe making one is a different story. Amongst the uncertainty, however, there is one thing I know with some clarity: that my films would be about love.
It’s so strange to me that I have this sensitivity towards love. For one thing, I have so much doubt about love in general. I think that so much has to come together harmoniously for there to be love, and it seems rarely the case that love is equal and fair. Can love be so core to humanity when it relies on chance? What if love is just a naïve idea to beautify a point of intersection between interests? In my heart, I feel there is so much importance in love, but I would face moments of rationality when questioning its being and my faith in love would waver. Another thing is that I haven’t really experienced true love in my life yet. I’ve had feelings of adoration that were deep enough to the extent that I would think I can feel physical pain from them, but they never really lasted to have any significance. It’s a little embarrassing but my left palm ached as if I genuinely cared for Jacob who failed at love in the second book of the Twilight series. So I’m yet to know what love is, but strangely, I still feel its importance.
I’m writing about love at this particular moment in my life, because I feel that my thoughts on love are evolving these days. At the end of last year, I felt loved. It had been long since I did, so my reactions to it were apparent and I could easily reflect on them. To tell the story in short, I was scared when he loved me. Then he left and I felt regret at shying away, because I couldn’t get my mind off of that warmth he made me feel with his tenderness. Friends would say that it wasn’t real love and that it was just a fling. Maybe it was just a momentary surge of emotions that got us to like each other, and this thought once made me lose hope in honest love. But then again, nothing is ever transparent when it comes to people. Now I don’t think that his thoughts and intentions matter. What matters is that I felt something from and to a person and acted in response. What matters now is how I take this experience with me in the present time.
I hate to admit, for I don’t want to think of myself as relying on others to define my own, but being loved boosted my self-esteem. It made me randomly happier and more comfortable with the way that I am both inside and outside. My philosophy on life is that all humans ultimately strive for happiness, and it looks to me now like love would bring me closer to that ultimate goal of human existence. Then I can say that the importance I place on love isn’t totally groundless.
There’s still so much I need to think about regarding love. I can’t completely trust the thoughts I have now, because my reflections are based on a fraction of what I think love is. I’ve been loved but haven’t returned that love to actually be in a lasting relationship with constant interaction, a more developed form of love, so to say. For now, I will live life with a newfound understanding of love and high anticipation for the next idea that life will enlighten me with.
My favorite dialogue about sincere love that has died away but remains in the hearts through its lasting influence:
– But I feel an infinite tenderness for you. I always will. My whole life.
– I’m sorry. You know me. Sometimes I cry for no reason.
From Blue is the Warmest Color (2013) by Abdellatif Kechiche, starring Adele Exarchopoulos and Lea Seydoux.
Films about love, especially those that portray its reality, have the greatest impact on me. Films like Blue is the Warmest Color inspire me.