I Can Never Let Go

That's right, last night in my post-wedding/sprained finger coma, I was trying to kill time before picking my bf up from the airport and trying not to fall asleep. Naturally, I scanned tv to find a movie to keep me entertained. A 30 minute show was bound to put me to sleep and I came across that blockbuster classic that haunted my dreams from age 10 - 19 ... Titanic.

At first I thought I could at least watch the beginning. Watch Jack win his ticket to untimely death, watch Rose & Jack meet in that moment of dramatic attempted suicide, watch Rose get drunk and dance to jigs and reels down in steerage and after the awkward sex scene in the Model-T, I would change it. I could handle the movie to that point... until that horrible moment when I knew he would die and Rose would be sad forever.

But that was impossible because within the first 10 minutes of watching Leonardo DiCaprio bum cigarettes and flip that gorgeous blonde hair, suddenly I felt like I was 10 again. I was back in the Lawrence theaters with my friend and her mom wishing that I was Jack's best girl, freaking out as Rose jumps back onto the boat, hoping that Jack would find a boat to climb into and sobbing as she slowly lets Leonardo DiCaprio's frozen body sink to the bottom of the ocean. It was if my walls of travel photos, maps and picture windows were once again plastered with pull-outs of Leo with that sly grin and shining green eyes. And every time Jack and Rose smiled, shared a moment or expressed any sense of happiness, my eyes filled with tears because I knew they were doomed.

I had to change it. I had to watch something more up-beat and I decided on watching Steve Carrell wax his chest and paint figurines in 40 Year Old Virgin. I couldn't bear to watch Leonardo DiCaprio die once more, but I could manage to watch Paul Rudd laugh hysterically as Steve yells out expletives with each new patch of hair being ripped from his chest.

But it got me thinking about how much Titanic influenced my emotions 14 years ago... and still today. It amazes me that a film - a make believe world - can affect me that strongly. I mean I love it, but I can't watch it. Doesn't that defeat the purpose of a famous movie? I can never own it. I can never watch it again in it's entirety and apparently, I can't even watch it in pieces. It's a part of my life that drums up more emotions that I care to allow it, and I'd rather let those emotions hide in secret for years and years.

Those feelings are frozen in the time when that film was released and as hard as I try, I guess I just I can't ever let go.