All films that venture onto the cinema screen deals with the subject of death, in one way or another. How we fade into nothingness, how we wade into the lonely lakes of darkness, and how the love we once felt dies out. Usually the climax is people knocking on death’s door, but swiftly (and predictably) getting passed it and moves on. Humans are so fascinated with their own mortality, scared, but at the same time drawn to the morbid of dying. I wish I could tell them it’s completely understandable that they all fear the unknown, but yet I can promise they have nothing to be afraid of. It was the 8^th of August 2010 when I died. As I had decided to begin taking my life seriously, it was quite ironic that a van ran me over that same day. But perhaps the question of how I can tell you all this and yet being dead lingered through your mind, and I have to admit I do not quite know. I’m not a ghost, I don’t believe in such profanities, but I’m obviously far from alive. It’s difficult to express, but I can reminiscence parts of myself that are no longer here. Almost like I’ve been stripped down, and only a fragment remains alive and working. This is where I usually reside, as this rundown theatre is the only place that shows classic films from forgotten decades long ago. They make me feel calm. However due to the age of the films, the number of visitors is particularly low, and recently they’ve been forced to take in more modern films to grab a hold of the younger generations to sustain business. I do not quite know what drives me to revisit this place so very often, like an invisible web have tangled itself around me and drags me back when I go too far away. My memory capacity has been gradually decreasing, and in time I’ve even forgot what my name used to be.

 

The theatre was still lit, and the film was yet to begin. I sat in the same seat as always, the seat I had counted to be in the exact middle of the room. The red velvet seat just felt softer in this particular spot than the rest. A fairly young couple sat two rows behind me, and I could hear their kissing and silenced laughter crystal clear. From their point of view they were still alone in the cinema, and I had learned that this is how people naturally are when they believe to be alone. I was guessing how many people would venture out from their safe havens to the cinema this evening and hence it’s a new film my number was pretty high. Turns out I was wrong. A group of young delinquents entered and took seats a few rows in front of me. Their chattering and storytelling was unavoidable, but certainly they kept at it. They were like giggling dead corpses pretending like they made a difference to the world. After suffered through perhaps ten minutes (or I guess, even when I was alive time was not one of my fortes) of their small talk I had learned more than I wish I had. On the far left was B, and only his placement said that he was the leader who had taken place first and the rest mindlessly followed, just like sheer silk linen dancing in the wind. His constant talking left little room for those beside him, which was a shorter boy with short black hair, who mostly sat smiling and they never mentioned his name. On the far right was another blonde boy named A accompanied by a red haired girl, most likely a couple based on their position toward each other. Drawn to one another, like the ground cranks the rain so close it becomes one. I was sure the film would be completely destroyed by distractions, but at least some manner hung onto those kids, who fell into silence as the theatre blackened and the screen lit up. Sometimes I tried to imagine my life on that film screen, eternally burned onto an 8mm film roll, but every try took more energy than before. Remembering didn’t come natural anymore, and my head begun spinning like I was soaring around on the back of a bird if I tried too long. Memories only matter for such a long time, until they become so distant it doesn’t even feel like those particular memories belong to you, like somebody has showered you in unwanted information about their own happiness. The screen blackened. Where had the time gone? Much to my displeasure this happened more often, like I was erased from the last humans who had once known me. Perhaps time had gone so fast they had all died. If I was dead I could have joined them. Such a common longing I found myself wrapped in.