indeed. it also does a good job of addressing the walls we put up around ourselves, and one another that prevents us from reaching an understanding. we try to communicate, but all that we end up doing is hurting one another. sometimes out of spite, out of fear, or out of retaliation for some imagined hurt that we cannot even address anymore, but the nearest person provides something of an analogue for that outlet; a straw man to knock down in our abuser's place. the walls become prisons, but they also become security blankets. they keep us inside, hurting, but we imagine that at least they could keep new hurts out. we hold onto them, think they'll protect us. they don't. they still let them in, but those pains never leave. they just stay in with us, hurting us over and over again. the breakfast club explores a hypothetical situation where for one day we tear down those walls, and face one another without pretense. a day where we let go of the fear that we could get hurt by doing so, by accepting that we're already hurt, and risk the possibility that we might actually become friends.
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