Oh my god... they butchered the Count of Monte Cristo. They took, raped and ravaged one of the most ardently vengeful, beautifully written and complex historical narratives and turned it into a feel good family movie. Ugh! If Alexander Dumas could see what his brilliance was turned into... he'd be turning in his grave.

I mean... shouldn't there be some sort of copyright law that prevents them from completely changing the ending? (well... actually more like 80% of the movie) It's so unfair. I hate how all movie makers do is give people what they want to see - in complete disregard of the actual story. If people wanted a feel good movie, couldn't they have just seen... I dunno... a Disney movie instead? Or a romantic comedy. Or some Christmas nonsense. Because the Count of Monte Cristo really shouldn't be anything like that. Roar. It pains me. It really does.
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and here we go...

It's all coming back to me now. I swear. And it's not a good thing. It's everywhere I turn.
And maybe that's why it felt so good to hear an all too comforting and familiar (although sleepy) voice even if it was for a few brief moments.
It honestly felt like life was slapping me in the face. Or ripping. That bus ride this afternoon was so agonizingly painful. And it didn't at all help that my attempts to laps into moments of comfortable silence were thwarted.
And I didn't meant to worry you. I know what you were thinking. I know that you were recalling the last time when I lapsed into silence for two months. But this is nothing like that. I just don't feel like being poked and prodded into responding.
I promise I will make an effort though. It's just that sometimes I wish the gears would turn faster or that I could drown out the sound of them turning.
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