I start to spiral again in cinema five (row D). we're watching a shark movie in high resolution, returning to the big screen fifty years later. my friend bought tickets to take a girl but called things off a few days ago. I take her place though I'd rather watch something else. the film is easy enough to drift in and out of. men talking about and in the ocean, shark attacks at the beach, etc. I laugh at heavy accents and paper-thin diction.
at some point I lose track or will to follow the boat on the screen. there's a thought of life beyond the pictures and I remember the tasks that left me here. I take stock of expectations waiting at the door, ready to drown me like dreams I can't wake up from. and though I don't like the film I don't want to leave. would I be more willing with the sense to give the day less weight? I tell myself to watch the news and count the stars. try to get out of the way. the curse of self-importance can surely be unlearnt. who doesn't die waiting for proof that they matter?
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