At the end of the film, the old man died, Lucy woke up from the edge of dying, she knew the truth and cried and snarled.
She woke up. Wake up from endless slumber, wake up from numb depression, wake up from despair, fear, escape, and indulgence. It was not the prince who kissed her, not the sunshine, but the corpse, the mess, the dirty nude.
This reminds me of the story told by the old man in the middle of the film. It is the environment around us that numbs us, and the friends who get along with each other day by day. If we want to regain our passion for life, nothing is more powerful than real suffering. Those teenagers who are immersed in indulgence and depravity, immersed in sorrow and despair, are the real sleeping beauties. They hold the most precious years in their hands and have the most beautiful eyes, but their lives are sleeping in a senseless struggle. They can't see what is truly powerful happiness, what is truly painful despair. For those who indulge in trivial troubles before their eyes, there is no real pain for them. For those who indulge in trivial enjoyment before their eyes, there is no real joy.
They are the sleeping beauties in real life, so do we.
When her boyfriend dies, when cynicism strikes, when she sees that her beauty has only become a man's tool, in the dark, she finally becomes brave. As long as a person truly appreciates the despair of suffering, he will understand how ostentatious all the words to beautify suffering and how contrived all the gestures that show off suffering are. He can only be brave and can only wake up.
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