Where the World Fades and I Begin Again
“Cinema is a mirror by which we often see ourselves.” — Alejandro González Iñárritu
There’s something magical about the moment the lights dim, the screen lights up, and the real world fades away.
I’ve always had a deep love for cinema, not just as a form of entertainment, but as a place of healing. For me, going to the movies isn’t just a casual pastime. It’s a ritual, a therapy session, a much-needed escape.
Whenever anxiety starts creeping in, when depression feels like a cloud that won’t lift, or when anger and sadness choke me silently, I run to the movies.
Just me. Alone. And every time, without fail, I buy a tub of caramel and cheese mixed popcorn and a medium-sized Coke. That combo is sacred to me. It marks the beginning of my journey back to peace.
No noise. No judgment. Just the flicker of a screen and a story that isn’t mine. And that’s the magic. For those few hours, I’m not me anymore. I’m not the guy carrying the weight of the world. I’m just a spectator lost in someone else’s universe.
Whether it’s the heart-thumping suspense of a thriller, the comforting laughs of a rom-com, or the soul-stirring moments of a drama, each frame acts like a balm, slowly healing parts of me I didn’t even know were hurting.
People often ask me, “Why do you go to the movies alone?”
My answer is simple: Because that’s where I find peace.
It’s where I recharge. Where I cry silently in the dark without having to explain myself. Where I laugh wholeheartedly, even when life outside isn’t funny.
I always sit somewhere in the middle rows, first seat beside the center aisle. It’s just where I feel most comfortable, not too close to strain my eyes, not too far to miss the details. From that spot, the screen feels perfectly placed, and the sound hits just right. It’s become part of my routine. I just settle in, sip my Coke, munch on popcorn, and for the next couple of hours, everything else fades away. It’s simple, but it works every time.
Cinema, to me, is more than stories.
It’s therapy.
It’s freedom.
It’s escape.
And sometimes, it’s the only thing that helps me feel whole again.
So if you ever see me sitting quietly in the middle rows, first seat beside the center aisle, munching popcorn with my eyes glued to the screen, just know, I’m not alone.
