“You’re not a bad person. You’re a terrific person. You’re my favorite person, but every once in a while you can be a real cunt.”
The above remains one of my favorite lines in movie history. It’s said near the end of Kill Bill Vol. 2, following Beatrix Kiddo’s successful execution of the five-point palm exploding heart technique. The victim of her deadly strike was her ex-lover Bill. It’s unquestionable he deserved the death blow considering the fact he put a bullet in her brain years before. Furthermore, he kept her in the dark as to the existence of her daughter. An array of other reasons as to why Kiddo killed Bill could be added, but those already listed will suffice as the line Bill utters before croaking is my concern.
You’re not a bad person. It’s been on my mind as of late; damn my downs are on the rise! In the last week I’ve been urged to accept the fact that everything is falling apart. Sure no one has busted a cap in my crown, nor has my clandestine offspring been revealed to me. That said a substantial amount of suck has grabbed a hold of my so called life. It all started last Tuesday when a half-assed coup de grace was performed upon my career. Since then the relationships around me have suffered, (whether or not my hardship has been the instigator).
Complaint could be justified at this point, but I’ve already written against the inclination. In addition, I’d be ignorant to assume that I am not a part of the problem; after all it is my life we are talking about.
You’re a terrific person. I’m not concerned as to whether or not I deserve such a compliment, but I’d like to extend it to those that care about me. Support isn’t easy to give; we all know Beatrix wasn’t graced with such. In Kill Bill Vol. 1 she awoke from her coma alone; she went about revenge alone; and gained the same alone. Luckily I haven’t been confined to such a solitary situation, and for that I express sincere gratitude.
You’re my favorite person. I hope she still knows she is. Bill admitted the same even after Beatrix set his heart on self-destruct. Why, because like him I can set such strikes aside. Love isn’t a game of baseball. It isn’t over just because officials say you’re out. No, it persists despite the doubts. It is admitted by the honest, and confirmed by the confident. Like Bill before his final breath I can assure her that I’m both.
Every once in a while you can be a real cunt. That one is for you la vie. There is no question a cunt is what you can be. Hell I can be one as well, everybody has their moments. That doesn’t make life evil, or us bad people. It means times are tough, but as it passes, good will be its sequel.