I’ve been wanting to watch Her for quite some time but just couldn’t find the time. I was intrigued by its unusual plotline and portrayal of deep human emotions in such a subtle way. Halfway through the movie I found myself wishing that I too was an OS like Samantha. This probably sounds more than a little weird. I mean why would anyone even think that in the first place?

Being disabled is a very lonely business. No one- not even your parents- understand what you’re going through sometimes. It is also very lonely when it comes to finding love. People just don’t seem to find us interesting enough. Or maybe because we’re are disabled, they don’t find us attractive enough. I don’t know what exactly, but something always seems to put them off or hold them back. Sure there are disabled people who have found love and are happily married, even. But I’m talking about the majority who have not.

So, watching “Her” made me want to experience love in a totally zero judgement sort of way. You know what I mean? Samantha is not even real. She’s not judged by how her body is shaped or whether she can have babies or cook a delicious dinner. Theodore just falls for her, the personality which Samantha has and develops. For me that’s the truest form of affection. And by the end of the movie, I was actually jealous of Samantha for having been able to experience love so deeply and in such fundamental form. And she got to leave Theodore as gracefully as is possible for someone in her position, with minimal collateral damage. I too want to feel the kind of love that Samantha felt, to share the type of meaningful and fulfilling (more or less) relationship that she shared with Theodore.

I feel like I will never be loved so completely and fully without judgement as long as I remain disabled, which I will be till the day I leave this earth. So I wish I could be an OS like Samantha. Is it wrong? I think not…



The blush that creeps into my face when I see you
The smile that twitches at my lips
The eyes that tear themselves away
And the heart that momentarily sings
And sinks like a deflated balloon tired of soaring too high
Because hey, you aren’t really mine
But in the moments that you make these things happen, You are mine, and mine alone