Screenwriting has nothing to do with life. Life is the exact opposite of that shit.
The right way to indicate an elipse is
. . .
I do like life, and people, in general. In general, one might add, I'm happy. Maybe happy is too strong of a word, so I'd go with satisfied. I'd say I try too hard to make sense within myself. Have an inner logic, at least, if any kind of logic is possible. But, well, of course I fail. I don't.
So, if I can't think about who I am, - that is too hard, too painful, I sometimes feel a strong fear of being alive, and being a person, and having a future, as if the future was a gigant rock that would place all this insane weight on my back that I'm not yet able to handle completely - then I might as well just go ahead and write about Anna.
Anna's always in my mind. I try to forget her, pretend she's not real, make senseless excuses, without success. She's here, and there isn't much I can do about it. So I think now, you and me, we should take a moment of our times to talk about Anna. She'd like that.
Anna, too, has that strange sensation of being meaninglessly alive. She feels anxious, most of the time, and she wants to make something of herself. As she doesn't know what exactly, she decides she wants to make a doll of herself, build something up in clay, blow life into it. Anna wants a baby. Anna wants everyone to be her baby, that insatiable need to take care of something. Well she for sure can't take care of herself. Let's not talk about that, she doesn't want to think about that. Whatever.
Anna has trouble with men. Maybe because of her father, but we shouldn't get all psychoanalytical about this. Not that she doesn't get along with most men, or that most men don't desire her, but just the complete opposite of that. She has a feeling sometimes that she would be capable of falling in love with just about anyone. She can learn to like all things, and she does like men, a lot. So she lays with them, eventually without any pleasure, just for the sake of it. Just foolishly hoping one of them might blow life into her. But the thing is that just as easily as she can love someone, she gets sick of everybody. Sometimes faster, sometimes slower, but there's this unstoppable feeling that nothing lasts. That she needs to get away, from something, from everything. That she lacks words to make her point. She has that feeling all the time to.
I guess what I'm really trying to say about Anna is that she is not a bad person. Not at all. She did some bad things, yes, but who doesn't make mistakes? And one cannot deny that her intentions were good, even though that's sort of subjective. But she's good, she tries, we're all trying. Anna uses her body and her soft voice in her favor, and makes an effort to encounter the grossest men she can find. Maybe if she has no pleasure at all, then she won't feel guilty about it. But the sickness in her stomach brings up guilt as well.
