camillelaurent

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COURTNEY EATON in PARACHUTE (Trailer #1)

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The way Nat sobs like a little kid in this scene absolutely broke me. We have never seen Nat openly sob like this— not when her dad died, not when the plane crashed, not when Javi or Jackie died, not even when she killed Coach. This is Nat finally losing any hope or resolve that she had left.

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𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰: 𝗔 𝗥𝗲𝗳𝗹𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻

Heads Up, Reader: This ain’t a TikTok caption or a breezy text thread—it’s a full-on wall of words, a skyscraper of my 2024 chaos. If you’re looking for TL;DR energy, sorry, wrong address. But if you really wanna know me—the raw, messy, complicated me—you’ve gotta climb every paragraph like the badass punk you are. So strap on your boots, grab some snacks, and let’s vibe. Or don’t. Your loss. 😉

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Preface: The Art of Lazy Reflection

So here I am, staring at the blinking cursor, wondering why I’m even doing this again. Writing a year-in-reflection essay—what am I, a pretentious poet or a cliché Gen Z kid? Honestly, I was this close to not bothering. Because let’s face it: nobody’s lining up to read my ramblings. But I need to feel seen. I need to know someone out there—anyone—might hear this mess of a year I’ve lived through.

Is it for fame? Yeah, probably. I love the idea of being "that cool girl with depth." But at the same time, I hate myself for wanting that. I don’t want to be one of those wannabe-deep Tumblr girls who overshare for likes and call it authenticity. But hey, maybe that’s exactly what I am. A wannabe, desperate to matter.

Still, this little ritual of reflection has become... something. Not quite a tradition yet, but maybe the beginnings of one. A quiet rebellion against my usual laziness. A way to catalog the chaos, even if the only person who ever reads this is me.

So screw it. Let’s dive into the dumpster fire that was 2024, shall we?

2024, man. What a chaotic, messy, heartbreakingly beautiful year you’ve been. I don’t know whether to hug you or toss you into the nearest dumpster fire. Maybe both. Either way, I survived you.

I. Better Than Last Year (I Think?)

First off, I’ll give myself some credit: I’m doing better now than I was in 2023. At least, that’s what I tell myself at night when existential dread isn’t whispering sweet nothings in my ear. I’ve grown up a little, become more observant, and picked up some life lessons about people and relationships—the kind of lessons that feel like they came from a drunk philosopher with a vendetta against me.

For the first time in my life, I’m genuinely scared of time. Not just because it’s passing, but because it’s sprinting. It’s blurring past me like a montage of missed chances. And here I am, 20, feeling like a failure because I haven’t done anything meaningful yet—not for myself, not for the people I care about. What a comforting thought to have while doom-scrolling Instagram at 2 a.m., huh?

II. Goodbye, RetroBop

This year, I said goodbye to RetroBop, the small barcade where I felt the most like me. That place was pure magic: neon lights, retro games, and a team of people who didn’t just tolerate me but genuinely cared. And my boss? A gem. But life isn’t a feel-good indie film, and magic doesn’t pay for higher-dose HRT.

So I quit. It sucked, but I’m now two weeks into my new gig as a medical interpreter. It’s not glamorous, and it’s definitely not RetroBop, but it pays the bills. The irony? It’s a “cheap-ass job” to the Westerners I’m interpreting for, but for me, a broke trans girl in a third-world country, it’s decent. Funny how perspective works, huh?

III. Connection: A Love-Hate Story

Relationships? Connection? Honestly, I don’t feel like they’re important to me anymore—or maybe that’s just what I tell myself. Pretend it’s not something I yearn for. Because I do. I crave real connections. I love talking to people, especially back when I worked at the barcade. Even though I’m an introvert, there’s something magical about those moments where the person sitting in front of me feels like a soulmate, if only for a fleeting moment.

But this year has taught me to reconsider. I’ve been the watcher, the quiet observer in the lives of my friends. I’ve seen the betrayals that cut deep, the hatred that surfaces out of nowhere, and the transphobia that stings even when it’s not aimed directly at me. It’s like life hands us these raw, cruel lessons, and we’re left to pick up the pieces. Watching their struggles has made me think twice about diving into connections. So I’ve shifted focus. Fixing myself, building a steady financial flow, creating a better life for my family and me—that’s what matters now. And honestly, who would want me anyway? So why even try?

Still, there are moments that shine through. Like that chat with Jerome, the British guy I met at work. He was so cool, friendly, and charming—a genuine ally. We talked for two hours straight, from 3 to 5 p.m. He told me he only had two weeks left in town but wanted to hang out if he had time. Before he left, he gave me his Instagram.

It’s moments like that that feel magical. Talking to strangers while working can be hit or miss. Some people don’t want to talk; they’re busy or wrapped up in their established friend groups. But sometimes, you meet someone passing through, and suddenly, you’re having the best conversation of your life.

Jerome wasn’t the only one that day. Just before him, I talked to a couple about games, youth, and how we’re all just trying to figure things out. It felt so good. A stark contrast to the night before, when I fumbled a customer’s drink. I apologized, tried to blend in with the crowd, but nothing worked. I went home feeling isolated and worthless. I even thought about slitting my wrists. I unpacked the razor but stopped myself. Why? I don’t know. Maybe I was hoping for something better, something gentler.

And then Jerome came along. He even complimented my body language and facial expressions, calling them funny and unique. He said, "Not a lot of people would do that, especially in the UK. They wouldn’t smile at all while talking." I told him I felt weird and ugly when I did that, but he reassured me it was normal and that I didn’t look ugly. I don’t know if he really meant it or if he was just being polite, but the way he said it felt genuine.

A good sign, I guess? For once, I felt seen. Even if it’s fleeting, even if it’s just for a moment.

IV. The Face in the Mirror

Let’s get brutally honest for a second. My face? It’s…not it. I’ve come to terms with the fact that it’s plain ugly. No Instagram filter can fix it, no amount of HRT can re-sculpt it. And honestly, that truth breaks me. Because I don’t want to be a freak; I want to be a girl—a real, beautiful, undeniable girl. But with my financial situation, I’ve been stuck on the same HRT dose as last year, sometimes even skipping doses because I just couldn’t afford it. Fuck me, right?

The testosterone is winning. It’s dragging my body to a place I can’t come back from, and every month it gets harder to fight. I’m turning 21 in eight months, and I’m terrified.

Sometimes, the thought creeps in: Maybe I should just…not be here. But I can’t give up. Not yet. There’s too much I still want. A trip to Europe and Scandinavia. A short film—hell, maybe even a film career. I want to give my parents and family the life they deserve. And yeah, I want to feel pretty. Just once. Even if it’s fleeting, even if it’s an illusion, I want that.

V. The Depressed-Covid-Dreamy-Era

It’s weird, but I still miss the old days. Not that old—just 2-3 years ago, back when I was basically a kid. I kept to myself, detached from my class, from everyone around me. Social media became my lifeline, my escape. I was this moody, introverted kid with big headphones and an even bigger wall around my heart. Online, I could exist without being seen—or so I thought.

But I got too attached. I made some awful choices, said things I didn’t mean, hurt people I cared about, and turned myself into a shameful clown. That’s what I call my "depressed-covid-dreamy-era." It was this weird mix of isolation and connection, hope and hopelessness.

I call it "dreamy" because, even while stuck in those four walls for months, I had these wild dreams. I’d watch movies and travel vlogs on YouTube, imagining the life I wanted: a decent job, a good salary, a trip to Europe every three years, a breakthrough in my film career. And I wanted to be a good girl, whatever that meant (lmao, I hadn’t even started HRT back then).

But it wasn’t all dreams. There was a lot of pain, too. I self-harmed a lot during that phase. Cutting, slitting, hitting myself—it was my way of numbing the overwhelming negativity in my mind. For a while, it felt like the only thing I had control over. I’d sit there, staring at the razor, wondering if I’d ever push it deep enough to make the pain stop for good. But I didn’t. Maybe that makes me a coward, or maybe it makes me a survivor. I’m still figuring that part out.

Now? I’ve been clean for almost a year. It hasn’t been easy, especially lately. The urge to relapse is like an old, toxic friend who keeps texting you at 3 a.m. But I’m fighting it. I don’t want to go back there. Not again.

VI. Across the Spider-Verse, and Across My Heart

Rewatching Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse this year was an unexpected emotional gut punch—every single time. I know it’s already been praised to death for its artistry, so I won’t go there. But for me, it wasn’t just a movie; it was a mirror.

It was Gwen Stacy’s story that hit the hardest. The way she has to hide her true self from her father—how that secret eats at her—felt like a page ripped from my own life. Her fear of coming out, of not being accepted for who she really is? That’s the trans experience in a nutshell. And when she finally tells her dad and he accepts her, loves her anyway? That’s the dream. It’s a moment I replay in my mind when things feel too heavy—a reminder that acceptance isn’t impossible, even if it feels like it most days. Gwen’s story doesn’t shy away from the pain of hiding or the fear of rejection. But it also offers hope, the kind that feels both distant and achingly close, wishing that I could have that, too—a dad who sees you for who you are and still loves you.

And let’s not forget the adventures. What I admire most about Gwen is her courage. She swings through worlds with raw, punk confidence, facing challenges head-on. I wish I could live like that—boldly, unapologetically, embracing every part of me. Her journey reminds me that identity is not a destination but a path, messy and beautiful all at once. I wish I could live like that—boldly, unapologetically, exploring the universe on my own terms. But for now, I’ll settle for rewatching her story and letting it remind me that maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for my own.

Epilogue: A Punk Prayer for 2025

2024, you’ve been a bastard, but you’ve also been kind in your own weird way. You’ve shown me that I’m still here, still fighting, still clinging to this ridiculous, beautiful, tragic world. I hope 2025 has something worth waiting for—something that makes all this struggle make sense.

To anyone reading this: If you’ve ever felt like me, know this. Life is ugly and cruel and unfair, but it’s also full of tiny moments of magic. Neon lights at a barcade. The kindness of a good boss. The first time someone calls you by your real name. Hold on to those moments. They’re worth it.

And to me? Keep going, you punk-ass suicidal girl with big dreams and a busted heart. You’ve made it this far, and that’s no small thing.

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“Do you think that can't happen? Then what kind of freedom can we talk about?”

Anora (2024) Written and Directed by Sean Baker.

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📓Sep 14 diary:

just had a chat with a british guy aka jerome, he's so cool, so friendly/charming and he's an ally ✨.

we talked for like 2 hours straight from 3-5pm.

he told me that he only have two weeks left, if he's free he would invite me to hang out.

and then he gave me his insta.

there's just something so magical about meeting and talking to strangers while working.

sometimes they dont want to talk and have their own businesses/already established friend group.

but other times you meet a person who's just being here on a trip and then you two just casually have the best conversation you ever had.

the connection was so good.

just like when i casually talk to this couple right before him.

about games, about youth and about figuring it all out about ourselves.

i was so depressed and felt isolated/worthless last night when i fumbled a drink of a customer, and then i tried to say sorry and blend in with the crowd, but none of the efforts were good enough to make me feel even just a little bit better. i even thought about slitting my wrist that night when i come home at around 12:30, but then something stopped me from unpacking the new razor. i just dont know. maybe i was just hoping that whatever comes next, it would be easier and gentle on me.

but am i really? or i'm just getting happy for a bit until the dark void in my mind drags me back into the endless pit?

now i feel quite good.

but am i really? or i'm just getting happy for a bit until the dark void in my mind drags me back into the endless pit?

he even gave me some kind of compliment about my body language and minor facial expressions when talking, said that "you're so funny and the gestures you made on your face are so good. not a lot of person would do that, especially in the uk. they wouldn't smile at all while talking and that's just..."

then i told him that i feel weird and ugly whenever i did that, but i couldn't control it. and he smiled, reassured me that it's okay and normal, that i don't look ugly.

i don't even know if he really meant it or he just tried to be polite, but seems like he really meant it by the way we talk after that.

a good sign, i guess? 

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- i feel like frances. am i frances?

- i'm a proudly hot ugly pile of garbage.

- why do i want to slit my wrist again?

- what am i doing here? am i worthless? do i serve any purpose in this world?

- i shouldn't stay up this late. sleeping would be better for me. my mind needs to be relaxed and i have to get rid of these thoughts even if it's just temporarily, before i go crazy and start cutting again.

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“Choose your future, Veronika. Choose life.”

T2 Trainspotting (2017) Directed by Danny Boyle. Screenplay by John Hodge. Based on Irvine Welsh's 1993 novel "Trainspotting" and 2002 "Porno".

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REVIEW ROUND UP OF DUNE: PART TWO

"Ferguson delivers another beguilingly sinister turn as Jessica, arguably the most fascinating character in the whole film..." https://www.dexerto.com/tv-movies/dune-2-review-2541695/

"Rebecca Ferguson adds a hint of malevolence to the gravitas she brought to the first movie, continuing her role as Atreides’ mother and champion." https://www.avclub.com/dune-2-review-visually-ravishing-storytelling-1851274494

"Butler remains the flashier villain, but Rebecca Furgeson proves to be the film’s horrific star. Seamlessly transitioning from conscientious mother to cunning priestess, she wanders through the film continuously plotting with her pregnant belly. The mere flick of her eyes is enough to show not only dangerous instability, but the frightening calculations behind the power she’s amassing." https://femaleantagonist.com/dune-part-two-leads-a-burgeoning-franchise-into-paradise/

"Zendaya and Ferguson steal the show, providing polar opposite figures in his development. Ferguson must chart a course from a physical and emotional threat to a large-scale schemer. The character transformation comes after drinking a substance, but watching her mental evolution is something to behold." https://sunshinestatecineplex.com/2024/02/21/dune-part-two-2024/

 "...it may be Rebecca Ferguson who gives the most villainous performance. Ferguson commits to making your blood boil as Lady Jessica corrupts her own son, leaving no question as to who the most vile character is." https://discussingfilm.net/2024/02/21/dune-part-two-review-denis-villeneuves-daring-epic-is-unlike-anything-weve-seen/

"Ferguson eats up every morsel of her rejuvenated, meaty role." https://freshfiction.tv/dune-part-two-review-denis-villeneuves-monumental-masterpiece/

"Chalamet and Ferguson take all that was regal and dignified about their performances, and apply to them a poisoned tip." https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/films/reviews/dune-part-two-review-zendaya-timothee-chalamet-b2499855.html

"The rest of the cast is fine and engaged, with Rebecca Ferguson playing complex notes as a wannabe mother-of-God..."https://scottmendelson.substack.com/p/review-dune-part-two-is-an-audiovisual

"Ferguson, her face tattooed throughout much of the movie, leans into an arresting menace." https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/movies/story/2024-02-21/dune-part-2-review-timothee-chalamet-zendaya-austin-butler-denis-villeneuve

"Chalamet and Ferguson’s performances are strongest when mother and son tussle about the right thing to do. Through these arguments, Chalamet sheds the boyish innocence of the first film for a darker, more complicated persona. Ferguson’s character also enters more morally ambiguous terrain when she is asked by the Fremen to become the group’s Reverend Mother." https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-reviews/dune-part-two-review-timothee-chalamet-zendaya-1235830061/

"...but it’s Ferguson’s slippery performance and Bardem’s playful one that really add flavors here that weren’t in the first outing." https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/dune-part-two-movie-review-2024

"Ferguson’s Lady Jessica rises to become a gripping “Dune” persona, who goes from being extremely dry in the first film to an intriguingly determined figure in “Part Two.”https://eu.usatoday.com/story/entertainment/movies/2024/02/21/dune-2-movie-review/72654598007/

"Even Rebecca Ferguson, who bristles early on in this film when it comes to her exact role in this story, blossoms into a bonafide force of Reverend Mother nature that does well to capitalize on her ability to mix vulnerability with savage confidence. Pretty much how I always envisioned Mother Mary, myself." https://inbetweendrafts.com/dune-part-two-review/

"Ultimately, it's Lady Jessica and Feyd-Rautha that reveal the true terror of unfettered belief. Watching Rebecca Ferguson stride through the Fremen's desert hideaway as she whispers to her fetus could easily fall into caricature if it weren't so chilling."https://screenrant.com/dune-part-2-movie-review/

"...this is an undoubted success, and is powered a clutch of lead performances – Chalamet, Zendaya and Rebecca Ferguson as a newly-ordained Bene Gesserit reverend mother at the shining core of the ensemble..." https://lwlies.com/reviews/dune-part-two/

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“I just want to be part of something bigger. To be part of something important, something that lasts, that means something.”

Babylon (2022) Written and Directed by Damien Chazelle.

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“Here I was surrounded by my family and my so-called mates, and I've never felt so alone. Never in all my puff.”

Trainspotting (1996) Directed by Danny Boyle. Screenplay by John Hodge. Based on the 1993 novel of the same title by Irvine Welsh.

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🎄 This is your annual reminder that Carol (2015) is a Christmas movie.

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“I'm so embarrassed. I'm not a real person yet.”

Frances Ha (2012)

Directed by Noah Baumbach.

Written by Noah Baumbach & Greta Gerwig.

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“Your hiding isn't watertight enough. Life oozes in from all sides.”

Persona (1966), wri./dir. Ingmar Bergman.

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“Mais l'important c’est pas la chute, c’est l’atterrissage.”

La Haine (1995) Written and Directed by Mathieu Kassovitz.

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"The Dawn of Man." 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) Directed by Stanley Kubrick. Screenplay by Stanley Kubrick, Arthur C. Clarke.