If I Were Ingrid Bergman/Ilsa

If you've seen Casablanca, you know Ingrid Bergman's magic. She is Ilsa. She is beautiful, she is compassionate, she is secretive, she is distressed, she is strong. She falls under terrible circumstances, and luckily Rick (the amazing Mr. Bogart) makes the decision for her in the end out of his surprising/unsurprising chivalry and honor.
Ingrid Bergman/Ilsa startles me with her firmly-set chin and calmed nature compared with the polar softness and intensity of her eyes. Her eyes give her away. They tell stories as we flash into their former life as unquestioned, secret lovers.

If I were Ingrid/Ilsa, I would approach someone that I dearly loved with a gun--maybe a baseball bat, because guns increasingly freak me out-- and then I would explain why I was so frustrated, like a super-intense adrenaline-infused therapy session--and then this person would wrap me up in a loving hug, take away the bat, and say, "Listen, Ilsa. I love you [whether platonic or romantic], but you're being a tiny bit crazy right now.I know I don't understand your life. I know your writing style is strange, I know you're confused about all things life, and I know you like to do things differently from most people. But killing is quite barbaric, and I don't think you wanted to do it anyway. You just needed a moment of near-explosion."

I get to these moments about every 3-4 months. It's a bit of an exhausting cycle and much worse if a boy is in my life (and thank God I am very, very single.) I am having a bit of an identity crisis. I'm pondering how conditional love is, and I'm trying to control anger that bubbles up. You know, anger is a funny thing. Anger can show us what we are truly passionate about. Anger can be intense. It can cause very bad things to happen.
I tend to ignore my anger. I know it sounds strange, to ignore such a strong emotion. But I really can. Then boom, all of a sudden I BLISTER with anger. It's like these anger blisters hurt me SO BAD that I have to pop them. I have to get rid of them, only the toxic (remember, these are serious blisters) liquid runs all over my world and threatens the people in it. Sometimes, these people cause my anger blisters. Sometimes I get angry at myself. Sometimes I get angry at something that happened years ago.
Here's a question: If you've not forgotten, have you forgiven?
I used to think no.
Now I think differently.
I've been sexually abused, I've felt innately wounded by family and friends and my former church. Angry. PISSED, even. Disgusted and betrayed and sick. Every now and again, I feel angry. Of course I do. Bad things suck. However, I have forgiven these things. I feel like I can easily forgive (well, except for the sexual abuse thing. I may still be working on that, actually.) I can forgive because 1.) well, I kinda love Jesus, and he's pretty awesome at forgiving; and 2.) I used to be the causer of anger. I have treated people with pure disrespect and I have judged people in a terrible, terrible way. So I want them to forgive me so I can forgive.
Ultimately, Ilsa seems to leave Rick for the dogs, but she actually learns that her declared-dead husband is in fact NOT dead. So she rushes to him amongst a terrible war. She hurt Rick in a terrible way, but she wants his forgivness. (Enter soft, watery eyes.)
Now, I am human... I ironically forget that I own a cell phone and I forget that most people don't read Jane Austen; however, my forgetfulness rarely excludes the times I've been hurt. Sometimes I get slightly angry at a persom; however, mostly, I get angry at the situation, at the way I let someone phase me so much. I get angry at the fact that people unconsciously or QUITE consciously make people feel like the granules of earth beneath someone's big, steel-toed boots. I become squashed and embedded into my own squishy pile of misery and I HATE that.

You know, I think happiness is often a fake emotion we conjure ourselves to believe we experience. But I would like to feel happy with myself. I would like to be more understanding to the world. I would like to open my arms to people who don't believe in God and I want to mentor AND look up to people who do.
I, however, do want to keep battling things. Because struggle leads to growth, and growth leads to self-happiness.
Because even if I have to leave something I love on a tiny airplane, I can allow my developed character and watery, soft eyes to save the world or get a husband or something.