A little backstory to this clip before you watch it:
Will Smith’s father abandoned him and his mother when he was a child, and when Will was finally getting into show business and making a name for himself, he tried to sneak his way back into his life like nothing happened. Will co-wrote this episode, and James Avery (Uncle Phil) said “this scene was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to shoot in my life. Every emotion, every word.. that was Will”
Will was actually supposed to play it off and then walk away, and there was originally an alternate scene that was supposed to happen, but he actually completely cut out what was supposed to be said, and did all of his own dialogue. The hug at the end of this scene is completely genuine, and this was a stepping stone in Will’s career where he started to take on the “do what feels, sounds, and looks right” approach to his acting.
i don’t care how many times i reblog this.
^^^ I reblog it every time I see it
Today is a very sad and empty day.
I tried to take myself out for tea, but I can’t make myself stay. I know I shouldn’t let myself go home and cry but at this point I feel as though I have no way to prevent that from happening. I’ve done everything in my power to get through today and make it work, and after doing everything I had to do to in order to stay afloat in the upcoming future, I have no energy left to throw myself upward and stay afloat in the now.
It’s quarter after six in the evening, and I wish I could go to bed.
You know that feeling where your heart sort of wells up with far too much all at once?
Yeah.
I mean, there are the obvious things that are on my mind, like that stupid little yellow house that I’m trying so hard not to dwell on the thought of having because I’m so unlikely to actually score it, along with my usual pre-gym session anxiety that I’m experiencing over tomorrow’s appointment, plus the usual late-night crumbling that happens to my psyche. There’s other things as well though, stuff that although I hint at in writing, I never actually discuss with anyone. Anyone. And as much as I’d like to change that, I’ve been beaten down so many times in what feels like an endless succession of shitty luck, shitty relationships, shitty “discussions”, and shitty treatment that it seems better to just keep it to myself and try my best to get on with things because, in my world, people are absolutely untrustworthy unless you place trust in their negative attributes. Once you know what they’re capable of, you no longer have high standards for their behaviour and learn to expect being let-down (thus not bothering to get your hopes up in the first place). I try to tell myself that this behaviour leaves room to be pleasantly surprised, but I’m not very good at fooling myself these days. Sometimes I wish I was.
The very biggest of the things that I don’t talk about is the one that seeps into numerous areas of my daily life; I exert an absolutely enormous amount of effort to keep it out of my thoughts. I can usually succeed in stifling its presence until evening, unless I start my day waking up from a dream where I’ve been forced to visit it. I know I’m expected to talk about this “it”, but as much as I think I want to, a larger portion of me doesn’t want to at all. I know that isn’t healthy, but whenever I try to “let it out” as some people put it, the words stall in my throat and I smile and shake it off, reflexively changing the subject and withdrawing into my mask-like alternate ego. And then I sit and continue my visit with whoever I’m with, choking on half-swallowed descriptions of what I feel and why, and the all the reasons that this makes no sense to me and can’t be ignored.
I know people judge and discuss me, and hold opinions of the things I do and feel: maybe opinions that could be considered harsh. If I could let them know that I know why they think what they do of me, and make them really believe it, I might feel a little better. I know how crazy I look sometimes, and how completely hopeless and irritating and repetitive my behaviour can be. It isn’t right, and it needs to be fixed. But at the same time, knowing that it isn’t right and still finding a way to survive and fix it, all on my own with such minimal mental or emotional support, is daunting. More than that, it’s fucking hard to do. Have you ever tried to alter what you feel? Have you ever tried to alter what you feel when what you feel is medically deviant and has almost killed you a few times already? Have you ever tried to alter what you feel when you aren’t sure what’s you, and what’s your disease?
I don’t know how much else I should say.
