monologue.

for the play i am writing.
from the character Annette.

I never understood those women who go to such measures to
Look young.
The miracle creams,
The pills
The surgeon’s scalpel. Mark. Cut. shape.
Does it make you feel better that your skin is soft
And you are without blemish.
As if the whole world would have looked at you and.
With their magnified glasses and prescription bifocals,
Told you, you are imperfect.
“ I’m sorry, but you do not fit the plastic mold we have
So conveniently shaped, just for you.”

I can’t wait to finally experience life,
And in return, be rewarded with wrinkles.
I can’t wait to feel my existence engraved into my skin,
And know that those parenthesis that surround my lips
Exist to say, I smiled.
And the raven that left his footprints on the corners of my eyes,
Only wanted to tell the world, I was never afraid to laugh.
The marks between my two grayed eyebrows
Will be evidence that I cared.
And worried
And loved
And lived.

you know those classic teenage romance movies.
where the whole movie she is after that perfect boy.
he is all she talks. thinks. dreams. about.

she makes herself everything he wants.
fix the hair. apply the mascara. gloss the lips.

you spend almost two hours watching her attempt to impress
and swoon him.
yet her attempts fail, or backfire, and she is still left alone.

but there is always that one boy.
that has been there since the beginning of the movie.
the one that has always seen her, for her.

and there it is.
true love

what a coincidence right?
we just wasted a whole movie
watching a girl waste her time.

you know those classic teenage romances.
why does is this such a popular theme?
does the majority of the american female population waste a portion of their lives chasing after boys that will never give them the light of day?

or is that just me?
(minus the coincidental true love with the unnoticed friend in the end)
my life isnt as perfect as Hollywood depicts.


i find myself mistaking my life for a hollywood film.
and then i am let down when i come to the realization.
that...this is my life.

i could picture it all day long,
the things im supposed to say.
the way he is supposed to react.
and everything is scriptedly perfect (my new word.)

i even create this hollywood invented persona for myself.

you know, most girls dream of being that female icon.
the one that is usually introduced by a shot of her descending down the stairs.
a pan up from legs to her face.
her red dress complementing her curves.
and every man in the frame has completely stopped what they are doing.
the room is in awe just by her very presence.

most girls dream of being her, maybe even just to one guy.
but i however, am a bit more realistic.
that will never be me.
not even in hollywood.

i dream of being that type of girl.
just to one guy.
that girl that he can't forget.
the one that maybe takes a portion of the movie for him to realize he is in love.
but that in that moment when he does, the screen moves to
a montage of all the unforgettable memories of her.
all the insignificant quirky moments that finally added up
to make him fall in love.




i wish i could just find my reality.

sickened.

i pray mud will be spread over your eyes.
and your pupils will finally receive the light.

look at yourself.
see the filth smeared on your mouth.
your bucking tongue no longer harnessed by your mind.
and your imaginary army is being led astray.

i cannot wait for the day when my heart will figure out which way to pump the right blood.

\

there is the moment.

there it is, lingering, deeply, softly.

where both of your watering eyes leak a single tear

at the same moment.

as if your whole body is in sync.
every part of you feels that same hurt.

there it is, lingering, deeply, softly.

perfect symmetry, a trail left on each side.
and the race begins.
which liquidated emotion shall find its way
down to your chin,
rolling onto your neck,
and wasted on the floor first.

disclaimer.

i didn't think I'd find myself here.
but for some reason i felt it necessary.

please don't ask me why.
because i wouldn't have an answer.


first and foremost, i didn't create this blog, so you could read it.

what?

i know.

i created this blog, for me to read it.

for me to know, my thoughts are at least out,

instead of trapped up inside of me, begging to get

out.

however, if you happen to stumble upon this, then by all means, partake.

just be aware, i'm not trying to change the world with my thoughts,

and i have no intention of reaching our generation with my

mere corner store blog.

it is simply, a selfish vent, for my pleasure.

i always viewed blogs as so...

conceited.

i mean what makes me believe that there is another soul out there that would

waste their precious moments on the interior of my mind.

nothing.

i am not under this impression.

so please don't be mistaken.