Crying makes my face itchy

I just watched the new PBS Wuthering Heights. I don't know if it's a particularly good adaptation but found it effective. I read the book years ago when I was maybe ten or eleven and a lot of it went right over my head and I didn't like it. It made me sad and uncomfortable and I don't think I understood why back then. I do now. Watching the movie has me sad and unsettled. The last movie that had this effect on me was Love me if you Dare. The two stories are at heart much the same. They are both about two people who allow vindictiveness and self destructiveness to ruin their lives when there was no real reason for them to be so very painfully unhappy. When I saw Love me if you Dare a few years ago I left the theatre struggling to understand why the protagonists would do as they did, make the awful decisions they made. I think I understood but didn't want to. I have some awful self destructive tendencies that I chose to ignore for a long time and every time that I gave into them I pretended that it was an aberration, an isolated incident as opposed to a pattern of behaviour. It's all too easy for me to sympathize with a mad woman running barefoot through the moors on a rainy night.

My last post I was ruing the maudlin nature of the post which preceded it. Now I can apologize for the melodrama of this bit of writing the next time I log on.