I got emotional with the thought that I almost forgot what April 8 meant for me. It’s April 9 and all the memories poured in. The heartbreak, the shattering of my soul, the unexpected death of a part of me. It was something that still affects me up to this day. After several successes in my workplace, I apparently couldn’t still move on from what happened a year ago. And it still is a driving force to how I drive my life up until this point.
But maybe the reason why it still something important to me is that it is still a story that needs to be told. It was something that I deliberately tried to move away from these past few months. I didn’t give it the chance for it to live in the hearts of others, just because I felt that it was a failure.
But I just hope, and I sincerely hope, that I could share the heartbreak to more people this year. Just to show the people that one moment in my life, I poured my heart and soul to something that really mattered to me. That one moment in my life, I was capable of loving something so much that it actually had the power to destroy me. A power so great that I am still in the process of rebuilding myself, putting the pieces back together. Because my inability to find that heart again would be detrimental to my being. Poisoning my capacity. It shields the bright light that I need to reach.
And somehow, that pain blinded me. It shouldn’t supposed to be just about me in the first place. I made it in part as a contribution to the movement. It was my contribution to the dreams of building a cinema that emancipates, a cinema that builds, a cinema that is truthful, a cinema that is for and with the masses. And with that, the film shouldn’t rot in the confines of my archives.
Darling, let’s give ourselves another shot.