Black Holes

I went into it with my expectations set at a minimum. On the expectation scale everyone has come to love that goes from 1 to, say, 10, I went in at a -367. Shane said he didn't like it. Lots of people said they did like it, people for whom I have an ever-growing distrust on movie selection. So there I was, wearing the number -367 on the back of my shirt, akin to the marathon runners who wear a number on the back of their shirt denoting their expectations of a movie on the expectation scale, in line for a movie I didn't really even want to see. Ticket purchased. Bucket of MD purchased. Worms in hidden coat pocket.

I was frightened upon entering the already lightless movie-watching room until I realized that the aliens now staring me down with their ridiculously oversized bug eyes were not hostile aliens at all, but humans which here wearing ridiculously overpriced 3-dimensional glasses. Also they were looking at the screen, but for my vanity I sensed them all staring in my direction, like a swarm of bloodthirsty, big-eyed beings from outer space whose only purpose is to stare down the kid that entered the theater after the movie had begun. Upon closer inspection of these fictitious creatures whose gaze I imagined upon me, I became aware of their outstanding beauty and the strong, emotional bond they share with all things living, that kind of bond you see and long longingly to be a part of; those emotions that are so deep that you become completely engaged and enthralled and desire more than anything to belong somewhere and in some way among them, yet leave you feeling an emptiness, a void, a black hole of despair once they fade away from view in your imagined place from whence nothing can relieve you; no video game, no book, no amount of Mountain Dew will ever make you feel whole; you wander for hours which seem like weeks at a game store looking at every game for every system known to man; you search every single book in every single nook in a bookstore; you realize that nothing will ever fill the void, no fix will be strong enough or last long enough, except maybe the one emotional attachment to another human being of high significance that you lack; you are reminded of this loneliness; this feeling leaves you eagerly empty; the years turn over; you become old; you die.

Fortunately, I was there to watch a movie, a -367 still attached to the back of my shirt with a safety pin. The whole scene was imagined. The movie barely reached my expectations, leaving no emotional footprint in my being.

Or did it? Duhn duhn duhnnnnnn...