In the movie Fight Club, Marla Singer plays the depressed, impossible woman who drives our main characters around the bend. But the only difference between Marla Singer and most of us depressed souls is that Marla Singer doesn't pretend to be happier than she is.
I mean it takes balls for a woman to attend a Testicular Cancer meeting as a patient. To be so bold, to lie so well that no one even questions why she is there. In the movie, we're told Marla believes she could die at any minute but the tragedy is that she doesn't.
That is at tragedy, isn't it?
I mean we all suffer. We all want to have some meaning in our lives. Some point in the pain of it all. But most of us will just lie to ourselves until we believe the fabrication.
Life is pain and disappointment.
But we're told that we should be happy. We should be grateful that we're alive. We should be happy we don't hurt more.
Marla Singer, where are you?
Without her, we'll all create a Tyler Durden. We'll all blow up our IKEA wastelands. We'll all make our living recycling the fat of rich women into soaps to sell to skinny rich women.
Am I becoming Marla Singer? Dare I hope to be her?
Dare I hope to be bold, to be awake for my life, to scream my pain out open windows just to make the neighbors flinch.
Am I to be Tyler Durden? A sociopath bent on being happy at any one's expense. Someone who would rather blow up the world than live in as the broken shell that it is.
Am I to be the nameless insomniac who is so unhappy he has to go to support groups for the miserable and dying just to feel better about his gray every life?
Or can I really be Marla Singer?
Can I take what I want, be who I want, flaunt my misery as much as I want.
Don't we all want to be Marla Singer?
Don't we all want to wallow in our unhappiness and then sling that badness at the others in their pressed, pretty suits? Don't we all want to be unstable bitches who people both follow and fear?
Aren't you tired of being weak?
Well Hello Marla Singer...
