Documentary

You know that saying, 'Still waters run the deepest'. Docu-lady is that saying personified.

She came over, she sat opposite me, she fiddled about with her fancy video camera, she asked me questions about my virginity and asked me to repeat myself on more than one occasion. She was making a documentary in the name of research. And I was the subject.

And during our two hour session she burned herself whilst unscrewing my bedside lamp (lighting is so important), grew increasingly frustated with her camera which wouldn't do as she was asking and felt her legs go numb as she knelt down for far too long. And all this I know because she told me. Because on the surface she is an ocean of calm. Because this lady only wants people to know what she tells them. I've always admired that quality in people. To keep up a facade of normality even when you just want to scream. I get the feeling this lady hasn't really screamed in a long long time. Screaming is long overdue.

I suppose the reason I allowed her to come and visit me was because I was curious. Attention is the thing I love most and the thing I hate most. The biggest contradiction of my life.

And as the camera started to roll, I suddenly felt myself change. I was slowly unraveling. Becoming a victim of my own decisions. It frightened me, that I could feel so weak in front of a glass lens. Suddenly my story became a little too personal.

I have still to analyse what exactly happened this evening, but I haven't felt this strange in a long while. Docu-lady insisted I was 'a natural' and appeared rather smug (she won't mind me saying) in the way she assumed and continues to assume that I will allow her to make a documentary about my journey from purity to filth. This evening has taught me that some projects are best worked on alone. In the deep deep dark.