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bennybum

Manchester, England

Member Since 2006

Followers 86 Following 194

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Friday Oct 13, 2006

Oct 13, 2006
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It was just another story printed on the second page
Underneath the Tiger's football score
It said he was only eighteen, a boy about my age
They found him face down on the bedroom floor
They found him face down on his bedroom floor

There'l be services on Friday at the Lawrence Funeral Home
Then out on Mooresville highway, they'll lay him 'neath a stone...

What's wrong with me? Why do I keep chasing the unobtainable, I did it with Nicola and I'm doing it all over again with striving to produce a film worthy of it's audience. I think maybe that because i never dealt with the angst and misery i felt all through my teen years that just maybe it's come back to collect me. Over the last couple of weeks I've been having similar if not the same feelings of loneliness, longing and uncertainty that was once suppressed by a tiny green capsule and as much as i hate to admit it, the time when i need to revert back to pills and medication is fast approaching - so fast it'll knock me right off my feet.

How do you get that lonely, how do you hurt that bad
To make you make the call, that havin' no life at all
Is better than the life that you had
How do you feel so empty, you want to let it all go
How do you get that lonely... and nobody know

Did his girlfriend break up with him, did he buy or steal that gun?
Did he lose a fight with drugs or alcohol?
Did his Mom and Daddy forget to say I love you son?
Did no one see the writing on the wall?

I'm nineteen and I'm alone; the top and bottom of almost all my problems, if i made a film and everything went awesomely well and dare i say people actually liked the seven minutes of imagination translated into moving images - who would i have to share in that, that immense joy and pride that something I've waited almost a lifetime for has finally paid off. I'll give you a clue, nobody, absolutely no body. My parents would have a fleeting interest and i can practically hear their reactions as i write this blog.

I'm not blamin' anybody, we all do the best we can
I know hindsight's 20/20, but I still don't understand...

How do you get that lonely, how do you hurt that bad
To make you make the call, that havin' no life at all
Is better than the life that you had
How do you feel so empty, you want to let it all go
How do you get that lonely... and nobody know

Film Making is a creative process and for that reason it's a hobby, a profession, a fantasy that requires self-belief as the only essential framework because you are effectively building a world, populating it with people and then asking a group of complete strangers to care for and about the actions of these people and their lives as they watch them unfold. Without self-belief and belief in my ability/skill i might as well give up and commit myself to my nightmare now. It's incredibly hard to believe in yourself and in what you can accomplish when no one tells you how well you did and how proud they are to know you. A film on the meager budget that i have is a slow inevitable suicide.

It was just another story printed on the second page
Underneath the Tiger's football score...

It's all coming back to haunt me and i don't know what else to do but write.

*Song Lyrics from 'How Do You Get That Lonely' by Blaine Larson

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