"Anyone whose goal is 'something higher' must expect someday to suffer vertigo. What is vertigo? Fear of falling? No, Vertigo is something other than fear of falling. It is the voice of the emptiness below us which tempts and lures us, it is the desire to fall, against which, terrified, we defend ourselves.”
Movie titles and book names such as "Melancholia" and "Tristesse" have always fascinated me. I'm not the depressive type. Actually, far from that. But I'm the kind that appreciates the beauty in Lana Del Rey's lyrics rather than thinks it's music to slits your wrists to.
My latest fascination has been the Milan Kundera passage above and the concept of vertigo in general. It won't stop haunting me and luring me to the depths of my thoughts, beckoning me to let go and free fall. My mind plays these tricks on me, it always has. My mind, pardon the language, has always managed to fuck me up.
I used to think that being the dreamer was the best thing about me. My best quality, if you will. But being the dreamer, at least lately, has only fucked me up.
As I lit a cigarette today for the first time in ages and felt the familiar rush inside of me as I watched it burn, I felt so simultaneously beautiful and fragile. I can always count on it to make me feel this way. Melancholia and Tristesse do indeed arise every time I do it. And I guess, for the first time, I can clearly see that the Dreamer has never been my main companion. It has always been the other two.
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