I am in one of those can’t sleep cycles. It’s OK, it will correct itself soon.

As such I find myself with even more time for films. I am a film watcher. I can’t often get to the cinema, so I preorder the DVD on the day of cinematic release, because a) it feels like being engaged with the movie at the time of release, and b) because buying the movie on DVD is cheaper than the cinema, and I can watch it many times, and at any time I have.

This evening however, I watched a film that I saw by piggybacking on someone else’s subscription service. I can do this occasionally at night.

This film, like many do, but, also, uniquely in it’s way, not only told it’s story but shone a light on my own. In this way it changed my life, because I understood it more.

It was a film, that felt, almost instantly, like it was an old friend. Like it could wrap all of me in warmth, and let me feel being, and breathing and like stretching out in the sun.

Books are like this. Books can become friends. It can be painful, and induce crying, to have to close the back cover after learning and knowing the people and places in a book. I have had books that I keep close after reading because I am not ready to let go of the world and the friends. Films are not usually like that, but I have a growing number that are. They are not usually, if ever, the latest blockbuster. They may even be a classic, or they may be something that four people saw and hated. You never can tell when something is going to reach right on in there.

And, the thing about books and films is, they are probably safer than people friends. They are never going to judge the cleanliness of the pjs, or care about what time it is, or think I am a horrible, selfish, fat less-than-person. They are not going to disappear, or be replaced with a stranger. Their diaries are always clear.

When I was younger, I could be lost in books and have my book friends. Now, much more, it is films that I make friends with. Maybe that my mind grows slower, or maybe that my concentration is broken, or maybe, it is easier to multitask a film than a book. And maybe silence is too loud for me these days.

But, perhaps I have not valued film enough. I do not believe in real people. The only ones  I regularly interact with are ones I grew myself, or people I already know don’t like me. Which written down looks like it could be paranoia, I *am* good at paranoia. On the other hand, I have objective and referenced evidence, so I am fairly confident. And anyway, it’s not a complaint. No one is obliged to like anyone else. It is perfectly possible that I am simply not likeable. Likeable is not a thing you are taught to be, it is not learnt. Maybe you just are or are not. It just is what it is.

Maybe, then, mania is a gift for those of us who are unlikeable. The gift of truly believing in one’s superior skill, to truly believe in funny, and clever, and sociable. TO not see the reactions of others. Of course, it spirals out of control, and that spiky, splintered, sharp, broken glass, invincibility is brittle and painful. But, maybe the gift is to have some time where you believe you are enough. MORE than enough.

Maybe real life is harder for those of us who know the top reach possibilities. I mean, it is hard to crawl through the wasteland and fetid slime of the nadir of human possibility, but, to experience remission of that, is to feel alive, and to see possibility. To also hit the zenith, maybe that gives us disappointment and emptiness on returning to reality.

Of course, maybe that reality just is empty and disappointing.

Film, though, is like having a friend who is there, and warm and real and doesn’t actually have to hide the irritation and the effort of dealing with you, nor does it have to look for excuses to not be there, to save it’s own sanity. Nor does it have to sleep, or anything.

I really do think that, I just need to get more films. I mean, I will revisit the old friends many many times, but today I have been reminded that sometimes, you know, instantly, that you have fallen into a warm and comforting long term relationship. Some people can do that with people. I can do that with films.

Of course there s sadness, as I wish for reciprocal abilities. To be there. But my being anywhere is never good enough. I can try all I like. SO, while I don’t really know how to stop missing that, I learn the value of what children already know. It doesn’t matter what other people think, and it doesn’t matter how you frame it. Film is essentially, invisible friends made visible. Visible, audible people. That put feelings inside you. That stop life being a switch. Without them, life is childcare, and vast swathes of emptiness. Like being switches off when they don’t need something. Fill up the emptiness with visible audible people, who are not real, but, imagine the job of an actor, not as celebrity, but as a person who can build feelings. A person who can share feelings, and teach others to experience feelings and humanity. Maybe this is a very valuable ability.

In this scenario, then, tv, is not mindless at all, it is transformative.

Maybe this is why older people, who are more likely to be without other forms of connection SHOULD be allowed to waive the license cost for TV. Because, it is especially therapeutic for people like us, who are otherwise alone. Should also be the case for isolated, sick, lonely other people. Maybe TV should be medically necessary. To make sure everyone, however unable to go into the world, however capable of being in the world, but deeply unlikeable, can have access to humanity, to feelings and to the warm blanket of a film that fills you up, emotionally.