I just spent the last hour or so softly crying in my bed.

I'm rough and tough, but daren't forget my sensitivity to any indie, or in general, raw romantic film.
Maybe it's because I woke up cold this morning because all the covers were pulled to one side of the bed.
Maybe it's because I saw a painting that reminded me of a beautiful passage an old friend of mine wrote.
Maybe it's my infatuation with the british accent?
Maybe. But the only thing for certain is, is that I'm a definite hopeless romantic. And though I haven't even came close to feeling them all (and probably won't), I recognize that there's different levels of love and how powerful that shit can be.



Needless to say, I couldn't make it 15 minutes into the movie before I started dropping tears and pressing 4 fingers against my lips like an attempt to conceal my whimpers or something. This movie's so good it hurts; those are the best kind. I'll be needing a poster of it asap.