The Urge to Unexist
To be a whisper in the wind, to clear away from the memory of anyone who once knew me, my parents forgotten they had a son that was me, to be invisible, formless and cease to be. It's simply my urge to unexist.
Ever since I knew humanity, I have always fought with an urge to isolate myself completely, till death. I remember once meeting my father to say "dad, can you take me somewhere where I can't see people ever anymore?"
"No, you have to see people." That was always the answer I got.
It's hard not to want to hide away from all of it. To bear the burden of knowing.
I always know what's going on around me, but it's best to just pretend I don't. And take things lightly, on purpose. And even pretend to be funny, just to get things aside. But whenever I sit by myself the weight of knowing hits me once more. And I would always wish to unexist, and vanish with the wind. And of course I know it wouldn't be all that fair for those who bother to care about me- so, it would be a joy if unexisting would also mean clearing away from their memories. That way it would feel more humane.
There is a silence in the wind, and a state of not being made. And there is a way the world moves, and a certain way the ears listen to a voice that isn't quite there. A voice that has ceased to exist. And gone with all the sun-baked sand of all the people that had turned to soil.
— MJ
Seeing with it my sorrowful blend. And I have seen what tears can't erase. No matter how hard I burn down my face with its waters.
Je me suis mordu la main et j'ai regardé mon reflet, et j'ai vu mes yeux de verre et mes ongles rongés.
— MJ
I'm a synesthete, and a cinematic polymath. I don't read stories, I hear stories, I read pictures, I taste colours and I embody music. I hear the notes of a forgotten universe, the notes of a lost time, of a lost symphony. What are these hands when I play? They move as if I am not learning how to play. They move as if I am remembering how to.
— MJ
"Sarah, the world is ending and I long for my death."
"Non, you will not die."
"Why, what is my purpose?"
"Look into your heart, what do you see?..."
"I see you Sarah..."
"Do you still want to die?..."
"No, no I don't..."
— MJ
"Jason."
"MJ?"
"There's something aware. Not just watching-shaping."
"Shaping what?"
"Everything. Gravity. Electromagnetics. Quantum mechanics. What we call laws... are choices. Stable-for now."
"...God?"
(softly) "Maybe, Jason. Or what we've always tried to name as God."
— MJ
I've always preferred ghosts who keep a gentle demeanor, and are well composed, they keep their hair a certain way that enchants the eye- strong enough to defend themselves, but smart enough to stay quiet when it isn't necessary to speak- brave enough to make the first move, and when they do make the first move, it's with the certainty of a ghost that has traced every possible ending- ghosts that are wiser than they seem, ghosts that have lived a million years in a mortal's body. Oh wait...had I said ghosts?...I meant women...
The best ghosts, like the finest women, are those who leave you wondering if you ever really saw them at all.
— MJ
"Einstein, do you hear the music?'
"No, but I feel its Mathematics."
"Fritz Haber, do you hear the music?"
"All I hear are the sounds of war and ammonia."
"Feynman, do you hear the music?"
"No...I see it."
"Marie Curie...do you hear the music?"
"Only when it glows in the dark."
"Nobody would hear it. Why wouldn't anyone hear it."
"Because it's not sound dear boy-
it's truth vibrating in silence.
And only those who listen beyond hearing can feel it."
"Bee... Is that you Beethoven?...you hear it?..."
"...Always have.
Even in the silence.
Especially in the silence."
— MJ
When I felt pain, when a needle pierced my foot, I have thought about it, and it felt like the point of life. To feel something, where everything else is numb-where reality had stretched out its hands and removed your soul from within you. So everyday I come back to the same tree side and made my foot step on that needle, and feel light pain again. Although bitter to my body, it made my mind feel like it had a soul again.
— MJ
The Night I ceased to Exist
It was a quiet autumn night, the air blessed the leaves and they flew through the hollow night. Jason, a friend of mine, came looking for me, but he didn't know that it was me he looked for. But something felt off, like a person existed in that blank memory of his. He came into my house, to find that no one lived there, he was sure there was someone that did. But he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He called Sarah that night, and Sarah was even more confused than he was. "Who or what were they looking for?"...They both made their way into my bedroom, and a single jacket hung by the closet. A jacket smudged with paint...but they didn't know who owned it, before I ceased to exist, I made them forget, so it was my fault. Everything was my fault.
"I need to adjust my necktie." Jason said with a soft voice, like a whisper. He then walked into my restroom, to face the mirror in there.
"Let me do it right for you." Sarah chimed in. Then a different reflection was starting to form on the mirror, a reflection that wasn't theirs. Neither Sarah's, nor Jason's. There was a person behind them. It was me. They quickly came closer, to give me a tight hug. "C'mon man!" Jason exclaimed. "Where have you been?" Sarah asked with a soft voice. "I had stopped existing, but you two remembered me back to existence..."
— MJ
Instructions for Cinematic Adaptation
If this piece were to be adapted to cinema, I would like it to balance both the abstract nature of the inner monologue and the stark, tangible moments of interaction, all while maintaining a strong emotional core.
Opening Scene:
Setting:
A vast, empty landscape at dusk, the wind gently blowing through abandoned streets. The camera slowly pans over a city that's deserted, where nothing moves. The only sound is the rustling of dry leaves. The viewer feels a deep sense of isolation.
Visuals:
We are introduced to the protagonist (MJ), standing on the edge of a cliff, staring out at the horizon. The camera moves around him slowly, showing his face, tired and contemplative. His eyes are distant, as if he’s looking beyond the present world.
Voiceover (MJ’s inner thoughts):
"To be a whisper in the wind, to clear away from the memory of anyone who once knew me... to be invisible, formless and cease to be."
Act 1:
Scene: The Isolation
MJ walks through his empty home, touching things that feel distant, as if he's part of the past. The camera lingers on a jacket hanging in the closet, paint smudged on its sleeves. He gazes at it for a moment before walking away. The loneliness is palpable.
Flashbacks to Conversations with Father:
The screen flickers between the present and memories. MJ sits in the back of a car with his father. The camera focuses on his father's face, stoic and unmoving, as MJ speaks.
"Dad, can you take me somewhere where I can't see people ever again?"
"No, you have to see people."
This is followed by a close-up of MJ’s face, filled with frustration and resignation, as the sound of a heartbeat begins, growing louder.
Act 2:
Scene: The Void Within
MJ lies in his room at night, staring at the ceiling. We see his eyes close, and suddenly, the world shifts. His thoughts come alive on the screen. The world around him begins to dissolve, the colors washing away to monochrome, a visual representation of his inner emptiness. (Included with a non-linear sequence of all those sub-plots happening one by one in the sequence I had written them.)
Voiceover (MJ’s thoughts):
"There is a silence in the wind, and a state of not being made."
The screen now shows the landscape again, but this time, it's as if MJ’s existence is fading with each gust of wind. The sky stretches into infinite emptiness.
Scene: Conversations with Jason and Sarah
Jason and Sarah enter MJ's home, confused. The camera follows their movements through the house as they try to make sense of the space, of the traces left behind. They touch things, but it all feels like a memory slipping through their fingers.
Dialogues:
"What are we looking for?"
"I don’t know. It’s like... someone was here, but now they’re gone."
They sit in MJ's room, and Jason picks up the smudged jacket. A reflection appears in the mirror, but it’s not theirs. It’s MJ. He appears silently behind them.
Act 3:
Scene: Rebirth in the Reflection
The camera lingers on the mirror, showing the duo's growing realization that something is there with them. A subtle shift in the atmosphere—soft lighting, warmer tones—begins to fill the room. The melancholy slowly gives way to something more grounded.
Music:
A minimalistic piano piece starts, gentle at first, then slowly building into something profound as the characters come together in the reflection. The sound of a heartbeat returns, steady and growing stronger, symbolizing the return of life.
Dialogues:
"C'mon, man!" Jason says, embracing MJ.
Sarah's voice is soft and comforting: "Where have you been?"
MJ, now fully visible, stands before them, smiling faintly.
"I had stopped existing, but you two remembered me back to existence..."
The camera pulls away from the room, capturing the three of them in a tight embrace. The sense of rebirth, of remembrance, fills the frame. The emptiness that once surrounded MJ fades as the world begins to bloom once more.
Ending Scene:
Final shot:
MJ stands on the edge of a hill, the sun rising behind him. The wind blows softly through his hair, carrying with it the sound of distant music. The landscape is no longer empty, but alive, full of subtle colors, sound, and life.
Voiceover (MJ’s final thoughts, from a flashback of his interaction with Beethoven):
"Because it's not sound, dear boy, it’s truth vibrating in silence. And only those who listen beyond hearing can feel it."
The camera fades to black as the music swells into a quiet, yet resonant conclusion.
In terms of visual style, the film should have a mix of abstract, almost surreal sequences, alongside grounded, intimate moments. The pacing should be slow and contemplative, allowing space for introspection. Cinematic techniques like reflections, shifting perspectives, and long, lingering shots would mirror the protagonist’s internal conflict. The tone would be ethereal yet emotional, creating a sense of both isolation and connection.
The film should explore themes of existence, memory, and human connection, while using visuals and sound as emotional tools to bring the abstract narrative to life.
— MJ
Reference styles, and mood
deduce the patterns and art forms in the following images to implement to the film, this requires strong pattern recognition, so brace yourself:
It shouldn't be a fully monochromatic movie, it should also have times of colour—full colour, and times without.
And that catharsis, that grand crescendo, I want it done with a nice grand piano. And if possible, a melancholic choir with a mesmerizing voice.
— MJ