Existence.
Well, what does it matter?
I exist on the best terms I can.
The past is now part of my future.
The present is well out of hand.
Three years ago I couldn't managed to watch the special screening of this movie, Control, and lately I've been hesitated to watch it for months cause I thought it would be a typical biographical movie of musicians which usually involve sex, drugs, alcohol, groupies, and such. To my surprise, this one doesn't have any of them, instead it portrays the struggle between the musician and his day job, his wife, his extramarital affair, and his body illness. Despite of the beautiful black and white cinematography it is quite depressing and disturbing to watch. It hits you with the thoughts of your own struggles. In the end he lost his battle against life and he commited suicide. Ian Curtis died at the age of twenty three. Twenty freakin three.
the struggle between man's conscience
and his heart until things go too far,
get out of hand,
and can never be repaired.
Is everything so worthless in the end?
Is there any more?
What lies beyond?
What is left to carry on?
