revolutionary road
and holy shit i am filled with dread, with this pitiful sadness for shame inexpressible for sorrow unsympathized for remorse seeping into every last thing. The way april curls against the passenger seat away from Franklin, taking out his sympathy on the cast and the director in anger instead of sadness. this brutal fear to look the pain in it's unwavering eye. even I can't do it.
I open my computer to write this note so that I can capture my throat clenched squirm but even the act of this writing is too much, so i go to instagram to message to distract to look away. Yates is so courageous. Wow. Implicit is my contrast.
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