The Village

The Village ★★★★★

a study in a scene, if you'll let me: the bell is rung. those we dont speak of are openly in the village. everyone retreats into their homes, reacting the same way. except for the three beating hearts of our story, the three eternal outliers who, to varying degrees, cannot be accounted for. ivy, a blind woman, waits in open danger, her instincts and sight beyond sight telling her that lucious is still out. lucius, relatively "high functioning" but clearly not entirely neurotypical, heads not to immediate safety, but stalls to help those scrambling, carrying a child and helping a window and door shut. noah, deeply neurodivergent, giddily laughs, excited for the invasion as if it was a parade. "theyre coming, theyre coming."

the village is, i think, for me, the most relatable film ive ever seen. i have been all three of these characters. i am, all three of these characters. i live and have lived in their world.


I do long to do boy things.

it is my instincts, my untamable immutable inner self, that drives me away from what is "safe." yet any leeway towards the truth i am granted is done so with the assumption that i will not know what to do with it. its right in front of me, but i cannot see it. yet i have hope, and i have love. the world moves for love. its future is in me.


Why can you not say what is in your head?

Why can you not stop saying what is in yours?

i am a model citizen. a respectable churchgoer. a good son, brother, and nephew. i feel no instinct towards myself, towards my feelings. ive been taught they dont matter. i want to be kind. i want to help others. and i, have trouble, seeing how i can do that, beyond the confines of how i've been raised.


I'll cry quarts.

i have not been accounted for. i am different, and in such a small world, there is no one else quite like me. yet it would be cruel to persecute me, we all know this. so instead i am ignored. i am a problem who must only be tended when my lack of an outlet causes me to explode. i have been given no recourse except hurt. i am inescapably attracted to transgression. i am more comfortable in the forbidden places, and the bad color seems to find its way to me over and over. the only way out i see is to escalate until i cant be ignored anymore. i cheer for the monsters. i wish someday to become one.

the village does not uphold itself through harsh schoolteacher caricature or open authoritarian control. stories self-reproduce more quickly and more naturally then any rules. the face of kindness always wins out over the face of cruelty, even if they both ask the same thing. i just care about you so much. i never wanted you to go through what drove me here.

its my parents. sorry to break the abstraction. but its my parents. they hurt too. theyve been through a lot. and my trauma is a result of them trying to create a space where i wouldnt go astray. i am astray now and. i dont. know what to do with it. i dont know what to do with myself. answers are too painful to see. my astrayness may be used to perpetuate the stories for others. its. the most horrifying thought to me.

hope is. i dont know. its what i have. uncertainty is better then, certain doom. and. at least. at least i have love. the world moves for love

You have kindness in your voice. I did not expect that.

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