I watched Black Swan tonight, at the the Community Centre (our new celeb local, Edwina Currie, was there, and we disgraced ourselves in front of the Ladies of a Certain Age who constituted the bulk of the audience, by being unable to stop laughing after a mention of John Major, but that’s a whole other story entirely…)
I wanted to see this film when it was released, back in January, but was a little wary at that time because of the publicity about the self harm theme. I was fragile. My mental state was shaky at best, and my coping mechanisms tending towards the self-destructive.
When I realised it was on tonight, I dithered, but decided I would go, because I absolutely trusted my fellow filmgoer. I did get twitchy with the blades and glass and scars and blood. My fingers clenched into my own flesh a couple of times. But, you know, mostly it was OK.
I got home and found myself checking That Drawer, where the blades and dressings live. Just in case. But it’s all right.
My only problem now is that I have the theme from Swan Lake as a brand new earworm.