Water and Fear

And this is where shit gets weird.

You walk into a room and everyone that you're sure was talking about you, now they're all staring at their hands. Everyone is terrified of something, and you wonder if they can sense your resentment, if they're picking up on your animosity.

These clones.

These sad, lifeless husks.

Maybe you have Capgras delusion.

Maybe you can finally get committed and stop worrying.

You should be so lucky.

So you wake up another morning and prepare yourself for your own hatred and arrogance by scanning your DVD collection or your book collection and confirming that yes, you do have better taste than anyone at film school.

You are the next Stanley Kubrick.

You are the next Charlie Kaufman.

But then this depresses the shit out of you, because you've seen Adaptation, you know what a sad, neurotic motherfucker Charlie Kaufman is.

Are you prepared to choose between spending the rest of your brilliant life either heavily medicated and emotionless or in the perpetual grip of your own depression and anxiety?

Are you prepared to end your life at the age of twenty-seven like so many of your artistic influences?

Oh, stop being so melodramatic.

You are not the projected images of your childhood.

You are not the collected portrayals of one hundred years of cinematic experiences.

You do not have to die in slow motion.

You do not have a symphonic score.

You are a person, carbon-based and warm-blooded.

You are various cells all running the same genetic script.

You are mostly water and fear.

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Water and Fear.