I know, I know, we’ve had our differences.

Jesus, I know.

You have no idea the number of times when I thought it was over. For real, you know? You have no idea the number of times I tried to force myself to swallow that knowledge, pushing it past my teeth with my bare hands, like a cold lump of congealed lard, until I nearly choked on it. Because I just couldn’t accept the gulf between what I wanted and the undeniable truth.

And you have no idea the number of times I railed against fate, even though I knew that this was the way that it just had to be. That you were who you were, and nothing could change that. But I was just so goddamn confused. If it wasn’t fair for you to change, then why was it fair for me to change? And clearly, something had to change. Because for us both to just limp on, pretending that we weren’t feeling the slow, sickening onset of separation, the nausea that rose in both of us when we thought of how hard we’d have to work to fix things… goddamnit.

If things even could be fixed. And I don’t know about you, but there was a black taste like despair on my tongue whenever I considered whether they could. A dull surety that the abyss was exactly where we were heading.

And I tried so hard. So hard. I fought for you. I fought to believe in you. Sometimes it seemed like it was all I could do to just hold open the doors of my belief in you. Of my belief in a world where all of this made sense, where all of this could somehow be made OK.

Last night… last night, you rewarded me for every single day that I kept the faith. Last night, you were like some golden sun – some golden sun with strong arms that lifted me up and flew me through the night and towards the dawn, and believe me, I realise fully that this is where that analogy comes apart completely.

And I don’t care. Because I forgive you for everything, Nicolas Cage. Every scene you touched in Kick Ass was pure gold. Everyone said so. This was what I’d been waiting for – the day when your need to do horrible, horrible, really, honestly, terrible, just bad, bad, bad, awful, confusingly-haircutted-roles so that you can afford to buy yet another castle (OK, look, I would never, ever, pass up the chance to own two castles and the most haunted house in New Orleans if that chance came my way. Who does that? You, Nic Cage, that’s who) met the Nicolas Cage I’ve always respected. Adaptation Nicolas Cage. Weather Man Nicolas Cage. Leaving Las Vegas Nicolas Cage.

You can be in a movie that makes a whole bunch of money… and still be awesome, Nicolas Cage. And you’ve shown us all that.

I said it last night as we were walking out of the cinema, and I say it again today.

I forgive you.

For everything.


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SIMON SMITHSON is an Australian writer and editor. He is currently based in Melbourne, Australia, but frequently finds himself in Los Angeles and San Francisco. His work has appeared on both sides of the globe in print and online in publications such as BLIP, Every Day Fiction, Beat, The Loop, My Sinking Boat, and more. He has a tumblr at www.simonsmithson.com and he runs a lifestyle experiment at www.selfhelpless.net.

7 responses to “I Forgive You For Everything”

  1. Lorna says:

    Dude! I was getting all teary eyed and reaching for my tissue…… and then Nicholas Cage?! Ah, you got me.

    • Simon Smithson says:

      The great thing about posts like these is that I’m practicing for the day when I have to write a heartfelt, heartbroken letter for realsies.

      Jesus, I hope I don’t fuck up and accidentally refer to the girl in question as Nic Cage now…

  2. Matt says:

    Given his reported massive financial difficulties, I would expect to see plenty more of those godawful flicks in the future – including, apparently, a sequel to that crapfest Ghost Rider. Gotta make the mortgage on those castles somehow.

    Did you know he’s actually a Coppola? Francis Ford’s nephew, to be exact. Find a photo of a young FF before he grew his beard out and compare it to that pic you posted above. The family resemblance is uncanny.

    • Matt says:

      Forgot to mention: did you ever see the film he directed, Sonny? It stars a post Freaks and Geeks/pre Spider-Man James Franco as a male prostitute in New Orleans.

      If you haven’t, you are a far, far luckier man than I. It’s utterly, and I mean abominably, horrid. I only watched it because people I knew were in it in bit parts, and afterwards found myself rethinking the lengths I’ll let friendship drive me to.

      • Simon Smithson says:

        Yeah, apparently he changed his name so it didn’t look like it was nepotism. After all, where would we be if we didn’t have faith in the morality of Hollywood?

        No, I haven’t seen Sonny/ And I hear it is absolutely terrible.

        I don’t know. I’m really not sold on Franco’s abilities as an actor.

  3. Zara Potts says:

    Oh Brew. You tricked me.
    I was clasping my hands to my face and on the edge of my seat… and then.. and then.. I saw the horrendous picture.

    • Simon Smithson says:

      Sorry brew!

      The pic is from an old film of his called Vampire’s Kiss.

      I really want to see a film he’s just had out called Bad Lieutenant. Apparently he’s phenomenal in it – the Nic Cage I love and respect, not the Nic Cage who was once in three consecutive movies that ended with him flying either into or out of an explosion.

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