|Melancholic Javier Bardem|
My hidden thoughts and pain simmering within me serve me well. Out in the open they're criticized and rebuked which causes me more pain. At least when they're inside there's hope that they would be understood if I just spoke up to the right person at the right time.
So I hide those feelings to seem strong. I'm not. I'm just resilient. I bend so as not to break and try to regain form. I'm insistent on my position but not unhinged. I insist on making people's lives better by keeping my irrational sensitivity aside.
I've tried to keep things inside in the past, but I wasn't always good at carrying out that decision. My feelings oozed out at times and burst at others. The results weren't pleasant. I got the worst of both worlds. I wasn't understood and I lost the hope of being understood. I've told myself to keep it all in no matter what and now I'm better at it. I'm better at putting on a show. It's always taken time to heal. I become the face that I pretend to be.
Displays of weakness are only appealing in a movie as the sad music plays in the background. It also helps when you're a charismatic actor who's loved even before you embody a role. When you see George Clooney or Brad Pitt crying, you don't feel sorry for them, you empathize because you know they are cool and will rebound. Because you value them, you also consider what they're feeling more seriously and less critically.
In real life it's pathetic. There's no close up, no camera zoom. Your weakness is an inconvenience in the real plot. In reality your face and each line that reflects your emotion isn't magnified. The light doesn't hit your face in a way that reflects your mood. There's no music to fill the silence surrounding your sobs and whimpers, in reality all you have are the people around trying to fill that empty silence with meaningless talk.