For me, this movie is partially about what depression feels like. Lee is the personification of it. You don't like yourself. You sit around with your emotions bottled up, not really doing much, mumbling and avoiding eye contact, because apathy is better than what you would do if you let your emotions take over. You find yourself doing things that you know will ultimately set you back (represented by Lee purposely starting bar fights) just so you don't have to move forward. For whatever reason, you feel like you just *can't* progress. Almost like you know you shouldn't be able to. Like you don't deserve it. The way that most of the scenes are shot from a distance, with flat framing and angles and no camera movement - that's what it all feels like. Even when an opportunity presents itself for you to leave your shitty job and live in a nice house in a nice town, all expenses already paid, you're still resistant to leave your shitty one-room apartment. Is there any sense in that? No. But depression doesn't make sense. And then the ending symbolizes that there are times where it seems like you're so *close* to making something of yourself, to pulling it together, but... nope, nevermind. Turns out you just had a good week. When they paid for the boat, it seemed all good from there. At first I expected to movie to end on Lee going to the store, allowing Patrick to finally get laid. That's a cool fatherly thing to do, it puts a satisfying end to a running subplot for the secondary character, and Lee going back to the store (I think it was the same store he went to the night his house burned down but I could be wrong) could symbolize him finally getting over what happened that night, forgiving himself, and moving on. But then the movie keeps going. He puts Patrick in more capable hands and decides to move back to Boston. To paraphrase Lee, he just... can't. He can't do it. That's what trying to make progress with depression is like. And it fucking hurts. This movie was too real.