Inspirational Movies?

Today I watched a movie. Nothing special about the act, I watch movies all the time. No, it's my choice of movies that is annoying me. I end up watching Independent films. Dramas mostly. And I do this to find a movie with meaning, with inspiration, with hope. Somehow, though, I end up with the movies where the one of the main characters dies. I cannot handle death. The thought of it scares me. Those movies make me cry, and I do not cry just because of death, but the effect of the character's life, and the impact of their loss upon other characters. This current movie had inspirational messages about listening to oneself, following one's dream, learning how to love, and what love means. It did inspire me, at least until the main character died, and then I practically lost every message. They meant nothing compared to the pain gathering in my heart, the soreness creeping up my throat, the tears sliding down my cheeks. Inspiration is second to suffering. I am there with all that is happening. The characters move on, they sob, they mourn, they get on with life, they smile, they laugh... they pass through the sorrow, all within a span of 10-15 minutes! I'm still feeling it! I do not have their coping skills. I don't have their friends or their support. All I have is the pain, and nothing from before it seems to have any meaning. One might say I take movies too seriously. Maybe that's an understatement. I am affected. I am with the characters. I feel their feelings. I envy their happiness and mirror their sorrow.

I did, however, manage to maintain the inspiration to go for my dreams now, and stop waiting for approval from others. It may never come. They may never say I'm okay. They may never like my journals. I love them. Isn't that enough? It has never been enough. There are people who say that just because you like it doesn't mean it should be shared with the world. Doesn't mean it is worth anything. I heard a story about a boy who was tone deaf. They say he stopped singing because he realized "he couldn't sing". What if he loved singing? What if he only believed he couldn't sing because other people did not encourage his eccentric tones? I shall not know the answer to this question, but I think it is sad. Maybe it wasn't perfect. Maybe it made some people's ear crinkle and scream. Maybe, who knows? I am sure that the Source that made him loves his song. I know a bird who sounds like a little bomb. That little bird sings every morning just before dawn. He probably doesn't inspire beautiful music. But, I like him because he's different. His odd sounds stand out among the rest. To me, that bird is special. Of course, when I hear someone or something out of tune, I also say "Why can't they sing right?" I've already been conditioned to human songs. To human voices. And it is a loss to me. A woman that I know also sings out of tune, and I'm sure she knows it, but she doesn't care. She goes ahead anyway, no matter who gives her strange looks. She has much more life to her than I do. She does not care so much about what other people think. I want to have that assertiveness. I want to be okay with me, even though I'm different. I want to follow my dreams. I want to be an author!

Will the inspiration be enough to initiate self-publishing my journals? I don't know. I can hope.