It's not what it seems

For the past few days, I have had my parents' house to myself. This being said, I felt the need to pour ridiculous amounts of media (aka movies, film, Hollywood...) into my life. The idea that we need to live vicariously through these scripted lies is dangerous. I would hope to God that every girl sitting and watching a rom-com knows that it's never like that and never will be... and that whoever watches explosions and slayings recognizes that it doesn't really happen like that.
I admit. It's my own fault for trying to suffocate myself with the asinine entertainment industry. At the end of the media marathon, I have realized, yet again, that nothings is as it seems.
There's a hurt, deep down that only resurfaces when I've denied its existence for an extended period of time. It's a world-shattering darkness that overturns the preconceived ideas that children dream. It's become so dark that I cannot see some of them anymore. In their absence, I have even forgotten what was so attractive about them in the first place; therefore, I do not want them anymore. My childhood world is full of shadows. I suppose this happens to everyone as they grow, mature, and move on with life. There is nothing particularly unique to any one story but the stories are painfully unique to any one person. Sob stories. Some are for attention, others for resolvement. Cadence. I find the latter more bearable than the former.
Back to the shadows because I have spent enough time justifying them. This time last summer was bittersweet. Looking back, I am glad that the circumstances are different this summer yet I mourn the loss of the goodwill and innocence I had. It's almost been a year of on-and-off festering. When I say festering, I mean that constant stirring of unpleasant emotions because you just want to make yourself feel miserable. Usually, I try to put off the temptation to dwell on pain, as most healthy human beings do, but sometimes I just can't help myself... like when I watch movies. The pity party begins when the movie ends and the boy gets the girl or vis-versa. Let the festering begin. Tears fall because I remember the gravity of the pain I felt. The memory of pain causes pain. Then, they turn into tears of anger because it all feels so stupid and I want to yell that I have lost all faith in the world. Back to reality, I am not in a movie where that would seem completely normal and not at all over-the-top. I realize that I am young and I have only seen a very small fraction of the evil/darkness/pain/etc that resides in the world. Let me say again that I know that my story is not unique to the world... it is unique to me and it is proportionally difficult for me, right now.
There has to be a healthier way of dealing with pain. Can't there be some quick cure? Does it really have to be one long stretch of time where you have allotted yourself to "get over it"?