Sensibility. Repression. Longing stares. Passion. Burning.

Watching Sense and Sensibility (2026) I started to feel too, uncomfortably, similar to both Marianne and Elinor. Within me, Marianne runs freely, screaming and fighting, loving and laughing! She is trapped, and her jailer is my behaviour. My behaviour that resembles Elinor. Repressive, uncommunicative, bound by social conventions and filled with a sense to do what is right.

Even if that behaviour is to the detriment of myself!

Hearing Marianne proclaim the importance of passion and desire, seeing her so freely communicate her feelings! To scream when angry, scorn and spite when frustrated and love so freely it bordered on stupidity. A thought crossed my mind…

I would rather be in hell, because there, I’d be permitted to scream.

No matter how horrendous it’d be to burn and suffer, I would finally be allowed to scream and cry and release. So often, I cannot express how I am feeling, or I wait until it bubbles up to the surface. Mentos in coke.

A common theme in my blog posts is the feeling of repression and self-severance, stripping myself from myself. I removed my passion in fear of being too much or being seen as crazy. Marianne never once stripped herself of her spirit: she knew its value and not once compromised on her intensity.

For so long I have rid myself of my ability to express emotions. Have you ever cried whilst walking in the rain, not knowing where your pain starts or the sky ends? Ever laughed so loud, you interrupted everyone else’s peace? Forgot yourself in a storm of emotion so vast and deep, euphoric and desolate? I used to feel ferociously and express unabashedly. I miss being Marianne.

Watching an Austen adaptation brings to the fore feelings of repression. The ‘R’ in Regency stands entirely for repression. It’s the name of the game. The navigation of social norms, the inability to speak one’s truth, shoving emotions down and being riddled with inhibitions. It makes for phenomenal romantic tension, so sexy is the forbidden! Yet, as I wrestle with my own constant emotional restraint, watching others stumble, neglect words, act on their half-baked presumptions or speak in halves, it feels so frustrating.

Suddenly, an all too familiar heat is conjured at the base of my throat, in sympathy with their anguish and inability. I become reminded of my own! When the film draws to a close, and problems are resolved, it’s clear that release was the catalyst for catharsis and completion. Nothing can be resolved until you release your feelings, your fears, and let it all out!

I understand it is a bit extreme to say I’d opt into damnation. However, as I write this I’m thinking of when I can next scream. (Into a pillow doesn’t do the trick.) I need to scream outdoors. I need a hill. I need the rain. That’s probably a bit easier than consorting with the devil. I want to feel free.

Life happens when you release.