GAYLETTER

Tangled in my sheets and lying on your back, I watch you turn to greet the soft light of a sun that has just begun to rise. Your body is still asleep, but your mind is so awake. I keep a box of photos by my bedside, relics of the ancient civilizations of me, Incarnations of self like all of the cities I’ve set fire to — and I show them to you sparingly. Photos of the life I lived before you, back when I had bruised lips and hips and knees that knocked when I walked. Back when everything in my life was a habitual as breathing. And I have never been too easily satiated. Things that take a little with others seem to take a lot with me. I’ve spent the formative years of my youth wondering why nobody told me growing up would be so hard. A master at placing the blame, I’ve been running in circles and howling at a starless sky.

 
I’m spending the final years of my youth wondering why nobody told me falling in love could be so easy. An amateur at real feelings, I am breaking down my walls and my thick skin, howling at the moon in Texas. I am far from that person now. Rolling over in the morning, twisting in my slutty white sheets, I pull you closer and I am far nearer to the person I could be.

 
That magic, it’s a head rush. It’s a high that the drugs can’t match. …

This is a short film that anyone who’s moved in with a significant other (many of us) and anyone who’s every gone to Ikea (all of us) can relate to.

Ikea shines like a giant blue and yellow beacon promising both improvement to the home and to the self. Going there on your own can be tiring, but easy enough. Going with a partner and being forced to agree on seemingly important decisions about how you want to live, can be almost impossible. All couples start their journey to Ikea filled with hope, only to end it on the bedroom floor at 3am, drunk, with pieces of plywood strewn about you, an allen wrench in one hand and an instruction booklet in the other, cursing Ingvar Feodor Kamprad for creating Ikea and the HOPEN, 8-drawer dresser in the first place.

Yet we always return.

http://vimeo.com/86647770 …