(Actor may be sitting with a pen and a lot of paper, writing
to release thoughts)
I wish I didn’t know better.
Life would be so much easier. I
know too much, think too much. I think
my sense receptors are outta wack. There’s
so much to take in that it’s impossible to keep your sanity here. I feel like we’re all walking through this
thick fog; reaching out ahead of us with the hope of making contact. We keep yelling at each other but the
moisture clogs our ears to the point of deafness.
No one else seems to see this. Or maybe they do but they can’t define it
like I can, cause that’s scary yea? I mean it takes away any possible reason
for living, hell it even questions our very existence. But let’s not get too existential at the
moment, ‘cause that never ends well. I
don’t wanna be the downer all the time so when I feel like this I spend a lot
of my time alone. I go through the motions, continue to stray, drift, do what I
can to feel…to feel-(actor gets a paper cut from one of the sheets of paper and
reacts appropriately, then chuckles).
Blood. I love the color. It fascinates me. How can something so subtle be so rich? It
represents life, portrays passion. It
streams through my body like the tributaries of the Amazon. It dances through my veins to an inaudible
beat. The steady pulse keeps me
alive. It keeps my thoughts flowing and
my hand moving across the page. But
sometimes it feels trapped. Sometimes it
feels suffocated. It tears at my brain,
pounds against my skull begging for release.
And me? There are times when I want to comply. Grant the wish. An escape.
A release, freedom. Sometimes I
long to see it flow. Trickle out from my
arteries to drip onto the floor. I love
the color. The sight of it surging out
from underneath my skin, soaking the pages, drowning my world in its deep red
paint; reminds me that I exist.
No comments:
Post a Comment