hello, audrey hepburn

Scan from Audrey Hepburn: A Life in Pictures

Reading Audrey Hepburn's biographies have made me realized something that resides deep inside within me. I have come to a conclusion that the lack of emotions that has characterized me is not founded on my deadpan expressions, but rooted in a “inherent sadness” of the heart. This sounds absolutely ludicrous but somewhere, under all these thoughts and chaos, I think I am alot like her. There must be a reason why I am even compelled to like her at all. Maybe this explains my subconscious gravitation and subliminal interest in her.

The description could have been offered by Audrey’s son, who later wrote of “the inner sadness she had always carried inside her.”

I think I am happy. But, sometimes, somewhere and somehow, I feel like there is an Audrey Hepburn inside of me or even an Antoinette Cosway. (Not in her elegance or mannerism). Both ladies have an incredibly deep need for affection. Antoinette's circumstances and unfulfilled desire for attention and affection drove her mad and delirious, causing her to become an empty broken shell. Similarly, Audrey's fervent need for attention could not be met by her ex-husbands, leading to her strings of failed marriages. And somewhere under all my smiles and merriment, there resides an Antoinette, an Audrey fervently craving to fill that voidness, that loneliness deep in me.

 Loneliness is a scary thought but I do not fear the conventional terms of loneliness. I actually enjoy solitude and the act of being alone where I can be amused with my thoughts and allowed the space for inward reflection. But this loneliness that I fear, so much, is the dark grim feeling of never belonging. Never belonging to anywhere, any person, anything.

 Moreover, this might sounds ridiculous but sometimes, I feel like I am happy because I lead myself to believe that I am happy. Somehow I am influencing my own thoughts through my understanding of certain philosophies. Descartes' I think therefore I am postulates that the we only have control of our thoughts and they define our perceptions, actions and consequently who we are. So by aligning myself with Descartes' philosophy, I justify myself into thinking optimistic thoughts and to not dwell in my own apathy and sadness. In some ways, the justification is working. I mean right now, I feel pretty good about life.

However, my best friend intuited this 'innate' sadness and even casually said, “You are so not emotional. I guess you are just really good at it.” He said it as a matter of fact, casually, as if it meant nothing. But I think he knew, he knew under all that messy piles of my 'identities', there is an inherent sadness that I try to hide and avoid. Because he did slip something about this issue in another conversation before.

 And you know what, it has taken me an ardous time to come to this: it's true.

 Hypothetically, I don't feel because I am driven by fear of emotions – fear of sadness. Can you even fear emotions when fear itself is an emotion? I don't know. Anger, Jubilance, Frustration, Excitement, Passion – they are beautiful, rich emotions and I revere in them because they make you feel intensely alive. To be alive is a grand thing. But I fear feeling crestfallen. It's a sick and unbearable emotion. It does nobody any good and it's an incredibly lonely emotion. Insulation of the mind and heart.

I just realized why I relate to Audrey Hepburn, I feel that 'inherent sadness' too. I feel it in the inches of my fingertips, in the cores of my body and it throbs silently, insidiously. It is a gradual culmination of sadness where you never really notice it until the build up peaks and the torrent of emotions asphyxiates you. And you just lie on your bed for hours, for days. And you can't feel any more, numb and raw. And at that point, you can't even cry. Drained, exhausted from living while voidness and emptiness settles in. In that moment, you just lie there, zombi, Antoinette-like. Numb and lifeless. But, I choose to ignore that inner sadness, hiding them in some deep recesses of my mind by manipulating my thoughts. I guess this is why I like to cry and rarely holds my tear in. I don't bother trying because to me, crying makes me feel alive. The detachment from emotions and inability to cry is terribly lonely.



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1. Antoinette Cosway from Jean Rhy's Wide Sargasso Sea
2. Descartes' cogito ego sum postulation and theory of the mind