Maybe we're all Sellers...

You can't fight the tears that ain't coming, or the moment of truth in your lies. When everything seems like the movies, yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive. - Goo Goo Dolls, Iris

Today I watched the life and death of Peter Sellers with the bunch. I was tired as hell but I sat through the whole damn thing, engrossed. I was touched. The gentle sort. Not because it had a sad ending or that he died. It was because I understood. I understood how it must have felt to be an entertainer and to live and die for the sake of entertaining others until you lose control of your own life. And I emphatized. Reality becomes distorted and identity a question mark.

I am by no means comparing myself to Peter Sellers. I am just saying I could relate.

But just imagine if our lives were to go down a similar path. Imagine if we live and let die just to entertain, amuse, until you shut out your personality and your soul. What is identity anyway? So they say Sellers didn't have one, as his actions and attitude toward life revolved around his movie characters. But isn't that who we all are? A collage of influences, an epitome of variable characteristics. Perhaps the only thing we have that he doesn't, is control. Control over creativity, character, influence and lust. Perhaps he had too much creativity, character and lust that it couldn't help spilling out and taking over his actions. Perhaps he was possessed by himself. So who's our greatest enemy, now?

Love movies that spring thoughts and stuff.

And I've always been a Geoffrey Rush fan...