it's nights like these

I've got a stupid habit of being in utter love with things that I shouldn't be. These things aren't like candy that'll make me sick. No. These things are things that make me think too hard, too long, and too deeply.

Every time I see Inception, I cry. I know it's the music at the end, the camaraderie that prevails, the joy of Cobb going back to his children. It's the beauty of it. I know it's also that delicious danger, that depression of them always being alone, the scariness of Mal's relationship with Cobb. It's that melancholy of it.

I see too much of myself in that movie. I see Eames- it's imperative that he knows who people truly are. I somehow understand the vibes flowing off people and know who they are- it may take me a while, but I eventually know. I see Arthur- calm, timing somehow always right, never questioning what is asked of him. I, in my life, always have things work for me, I always do what duty calls for, and sometimes I can be stoic to the point of what seems like heartlessness (insert my mother's father's death here). I see Ariadne- curious, an architect, short and naïve. I'm in school for architecture, because I need to create; I may have the look of a child, but I'm smart on my own, I hope.

But I see myself in Mal and Cobb more than anything else. And if you're reading this, you know what I mean. You know the exact situation. But I find myself asking more and more- am I Mal? Or am I Cobb? Am I the one begging him to stay with me here in this sick madness? Or am I the one begging to be freed from my chains, wanting to shed my guilt and the shade?

It's this duality that scares me, that's causing me to second-guess myself. I can't do anything about it, but the weight of it makes me sick with worry and sadness and guilt. I could stay up for hours contemplating it all. And yet I know that the issue is not whether I am Cobb or if I'm Mal. The issue, the true underlying issue is something I really don't want to even think about.

Is it real? Or is it all just a dream that I've yet to wake up from? Is this really happening- or am I just insane? And I know I've asked myself (and two others) this over and over, whispering it into the night, but I can't let it go.

And yet, when someone asks me what I think the ending of Inception is, I always say that it doesn't really matter to me. Cobb is exactly where he wants to be. He's home.

I thought initially that I was Cobb and that he was Mal; he's a shade- a cancer, growing on me. A manifestation of whatever emotions that lay deep within me. And I can't get rid of it, because I'm still so madly in love and attached. And I entertain thoughts of moving on with my life until I realize I have to confront my own Mal and lay those feelings to rest. So I can go home, where I'm supposed to be.

But that's not the issue, not really.

My fear, I suppose, is that I'm Mal. I'm afraid that where my Cobb wants to be is anywhere that I'm not. Because he promised. He promised that we'd be together. Every single time Mal says that Cobb "promised," I understand her pain. And then, finally, Cobb says, "But we did grow old together- you just don't remember." But he did it to her. As Mal said, "You're infecting my mind! ... You betrayed me." Because he is infecting my mind. And if he breaks his promise, it's very much betrayal, isn't it?

This whole thing is sickening. Sickening, disgusting, unbelievable, unsettling, freakish. But it's absolutely delicious. I don't know how to convey that to anyone that doesn't already know for themselves.

… And that's the beauty of Inception, isn't it? You don't know how to explain to someone who doesn't know. Also, you cannot be sure if it was real or not. So, I suppose I've got to figure out if it's real or not. Then I can figure out who I am.

*reads over everything she just wrote*

I'm absofuckinglutely a complete dumbfuck. What the hell is this going to achieve? Like somehow putting it to paper will make it better. What the hell is wrong with me? I need to stop thinking and be a fucking doormat-overachiever-insipid-douche or something. I don't understand myself. If you'd like, you can excuse the load of bullshit you just read.

I need to go to bed. It's nights like these that are the longest. I've been having a lot of them lately.