Crying or showing emotion adjacent to it has always been foreign to me. It is something fucked up I have carried since my youth. I haven't shed tears at funerals or weddings; break-ups of friendships or possible reconciliations from damaged relationships. The stoicism I have always held has been like a curse. A few years ago I watched this and something happened to me, that I cannot put into words. Maybe some therapist can psychoanalyze how my life has changed in the near five decades of my life, perhaps because I have witnessed too many people die tragically, some who were younger than me, or not having a dad, or having a shitty family, etc., etc. Or maybe it is because most movies I watch are dog shit and I have intentionally avoided films like this because I know there are real layers of humanity beyond the boundaries of cinema.

This is the second time I am watching It's A Wonderful Life since it hit me like a ton of bricks. I paused it at the halfway point and took a break. Mostly because I am afraid of how I will react at the end. Will I run through the streets like Doc did at the end of the first Back to the Future? If not, I am sure that it will be something positive.

Conclusively, most people don't read a damn thing anyone on Letterboxd writes unless it is a quippy one-liner or a well-structured sarcastic sentence. But what other words can be said about a five-star film about a soul-searching man in misery, witnessing his endless light return to him like gold coins dripping out of the sky? Is it possible that we all see small reflections of ourselves within George Bailey? If that is so, then all of us need to find the angel that hasn't acquired their wings and grab a hold of them because the world isn't getting any brighter.