T2 Trainspotting

Trapped In Your Own Past

written by

Maël

_Drive boy, dog boy, dirty, numb angel boy_ _In the doorway boy, she was a lipstick boy_ _She was a beautiful boy and tears boy_ _And all in your inner space boy_ _You had hand girls boy and steel boy_ _You had chemicals boy, I've grown so close to you, boy_ _And you just groan boy, she said, "Come over, come over"_ _She smiled at you, boy_ “Choose unfulfilled promise and wishing you'd done it all differently. Choose never learning from your own mistakes. Choose watching history repeat itself. Choose the slow reconciliation towards what you can get, rather than what you always hoped for. Settle for less and keep a brave face on it. Choose disappointment and choose losing the ones you love, then as they fall from view, a piece of you dies with them until you can see that one day in the future, piece by piece, they will all be gone and there'll be nothing left of you to call alive or dead. Choose your future, Veronika. Choose life.” “Nostalgia! That's why you're here. You're a tourist in your own youth.” Guilt and love and betrayal. Emptiness in the soul, in the heart, in the eyes. Twenty years flown by, and the dream is over. Over. Over. Dead. Dead. DEAD! The same group of mates all trapped by still being alive. All clinging to a past that was just as hellish as the present. What did growing up even matter? Everyone’s better off/no-one’s better off. Heroin is still haunting all of their lives. The highs. The deaths. One and the same. Addiction still rears its ugly head, only in a more subtle, yet no less dangerous way. Spud still on smack. Sick Boy on coke. Begbie on violence. And Mark, Mark on something even more destructive. The nostalgic pull of home, of those mates, of it all, pulls so fucking hard. Still feeding into each other’s vices. Still incapable of being completely honest with each other. Still needing to one up and fuck each other’s lives, purposefully or not. Desperate to reconnect, to continue that childhood friendship, but all so far gone from then. It’s too late to not worry anymore, but what time left is there to worry? What is life after all? Just dance it away. Danny Boyle, you fucking legend for delivering this even more beautiful, even more harrowing, continuation of Trainspotting. “Had it all before us, didn't we? Had it all still to come.”