Charlie Kaufman talks to me

Is like if he sometimes were inside my head, inside my soul... That feeling of dispare, of loneliness, of emptiness. The paranoia of getting sick, finding new symptoms, feeling ill and weak, and the doctors not looking you into the eyes and not saying anything. The fear of living because you know that you're dying.

"Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make. You can destroy your life every time you choose. [...]

And they say there’s no fate, but there is, it’s what you create. And even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead, or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain wasting years for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right, but it never comes. Or it seems to, but it doesn’t really.

So you spend you time in vague regret or vaguer hope that something good will come along, something to make you feel connected, something to make you feel cherished, something to make you feel loved. And the truth is, I feel so angry! And the truth is, I feel so fucking sad! And the truth is, I’ve felt so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long, I’ve been pretending I’m okay, just to get along!

I don’t know why. Maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery because they have their own. Well, fuck everybody. Amen."

And then the rain!!! Just rain! Synecdoche New York talked to me.