Sunday, October 20, 2013

Something I wrote to her

Something I wrote to her who asked about John peacefully dying in his module in TEH and PI when so much was unresolved; also, thinking about the Other at the end.

Because he pushed, because he didn't 'give her time' and forced her not to leave him hanging in-between, John thinks of the other. Both of them have hurt her -- and so the other one will empathize, will understand. And what do you wish for at the end, if not absolution? A little bit of understanding? Harvey can't do that for him, because he doesn't speak the language. The other him can. He's the only one who speaks the language. He'll understand that pushing was an act of self-preservation.

At the very end, the acceptance -- that's John being tired of running.

For John, running is anything that isn't home, however you define it. He's been running since the wormhole -- even before that -- and I'm not talking about running from her. John is always running, because he always wants to be somewhere he isn't. That's the tragedy of John, I think. He wants to settle, he wants the quiet life, and at the same time he can't stand in place. That's how I took the 'I'm so tired of running' in the context of an episode about home and the ways in which home is more an idea than a place -- and that's why John can never go home. Home is just an idea now.

So I wrote it peaceful, rather than angry -- despite the senselessness of his death. I like the idea of that almost-weakness. Falling slowly asleep, not struggling, because suddenly he doesn't have to worry about how things will turn out with Mary or with the child, he doesn't have to worry about the next evil, or living up to Craig's sacrifice, or anything at all.

He's literally forced to stop running, and he doesn't even have to confess that weakness to himself, that almost-cowardice, that gratefulness that maybe, just maybe, he is so much better dead. That it doesn't hurt.

He just has to fall asleep.

No comments:

Post a Comment