Friday Night Movie

I just sent an sms to myself. Because the world is sleeping right now. I should be sleeping but my heart aches. A gnawing pain localized to the left side of my chest. The only tormentor might be just myself. With the room dark and air still, my senses are hyperactivated when they should be dull and diminished.
The evening I had watched a movie. It was a love story which was interrupted by the distrust and suspicions of the lead actor. He is helpless against his own emotions which took a life of their own. He created demons where there should not be and persecuted his most beloved. Yet it is not a straightforward storyline. There was fear from his love which prevented her from sharing her world with him.
He thought they were sharing the same world until her revelation proved him wrong. Something like A beautiful mind where Russell Crowe lived in a make believe world and put his trust so wholeheartedly in that fabrication that he could not get out of it despite being told the truth. The movie which I watched never reveal which world was real. His or hers. Or rather which one was fake.
In the show he had chanced upon a clandestine letter in her possession which promises tiring kisses and shared memories by a male friend. In that moment he wanted to seize possession of the letter, she had burnt it. In her defense, she claimed she was afraid he would overreact to a piece of unworthy letter written in jest by an acquintance. While she tried to bring him to the writer of the letter, there were no traces and nothing verifiable. In his mind he knows he should trust her. Yet objectively such circumstances are highly suspicious.
It is a parallel of life when viewing issues objectively, the result is hurtful. Yet the subjective would claim that the objective is being subjective because the views are dissimilar. Because of a fear of the male lead, his love left out bits and pieces of her life to him. She had come to be scared of his jealousy which might destroy which they have built together. Yet now when he seeks the truth, they are out of his reach. He fills in the gaps with his own deductions which are just deductions. The late nights out where she could not be reached. The convenient breakdown of her only form of communication during such late nights. Her recent revelations that there were matters she dare not open up to him. While innocent at first glance, to the one who wears colored lens, they stand out immediately.
While I am not fit to be a movie critic, I may do well to summarize the plot. Yet I may do so blindly because I view them through my eyes which is influenced by all that I am and all that has happened to me. Is there really an objective judge in the world? Even the most precise of all systems, the underlying principle is unpredictability. In quantum physics, the cutting edge of technology and the science of mankind, you may predict position accurately or velocity. Never two of them together correctly. The closer to the truth one is, the greater the deviation is the other one.
I have a poser. How shall they resolve this seed of doubt? Humiliating the girl by getting her to seek out the writer to clarify matters? In which case highlights the lack of trust due to her by her love. Or shall the protaganist put a stop to all this by not probing further? Yet the doubt remains to whether the letter was geniunely written as a nasty prank or as conveyance of intention in an affair? While he trusts her character, how can he let things rest when his mind could not let go? Well the scale may tip towards her, he has been hurt before in similar fashion. The ghosts would not rest.
So our man continues his search for an answer. Yet every clue he chance upon appears unfavourable. He knows that might just be the elephant phenomenon which 4 blind guys each felt different parts of the elephant. They never had the full picture of the enormous beast and hence came to understand that an elephant is a trunk, a rope, a nozzle and a sail respectively. There are characters in her world that utterly bewildered him. They were like shadows of another world, shapes he found familiar but couldnt recognise.
So to spare him the agony, should she tell him the truth? Because of all he had ever done for her deserve an answer to his quandary he is facing. So the whole story is about a tragedy. Is it the most tragic thing if what she said is really true but he had failed to be convinced. Or Saddest when she never tell him the truth ever? Or the inability to differentiate between the two?