I am on a sad-movie-watching binge. It started a few weeks ago. Wait. No. It probably started when I was in third grade and there was no grownup home until 8pm, so after school I went to the movie theater every day for a week to watch Wilbur lose Charlotte and learn to fend for himself.
I think people who have sadness in their life use movies to work out their sadness by seeing it in other people. You know that truism about how we see other people so much more clearly than we see ourselves? It’s true for seeing other peoples’ disorders as well. Wilbur doesn’t work for me anymore, but trichotillomania does.
Because while I was sitting for school pictures with no eyebrows, thinking I was the most insane person in the world, four percent of all people were also pulling out their hair.