8The one and only time I really had a chance to do a serious monologue, let it overcome me, and show the audience what I was capable of, I wrote it myself.
Our performance took place in this very building. There used to be a carpet over there, which we sat on. There were around fifteen of us in a circle around a pile of sticks representing a fire. In turn, each of us would stand and tell our story, and then be seated The audience watched in wonder as our scene carried out, never before fully rehearsed, and we explored deeper levels of sadness. It was my turn.
I had rehearsed my story in my head many times. The first time I thought of it, images in my head guided my tale, like memories from another life. There were three of them. I remember them very clearly.
"For some of us, this fire holds no warmth. For me, it is a reminder of what I do not have. "
The first image: I saw myself outside his house, talking carelessly, thinking of nothing but him. There was a bright sun in the sky, as there always used to be in my imaginings.
"Once, I was happy. I was happy with him. We lived in a dream. Each day was a new world."
"But then something happened." My second image: I could see myself kneeling on my living room floor, my head down, my arms out, as if reaching for something I would never hold.
"He left me. My memory will not let me remember why or how, but he left me.
"I begged and begged him not to. As he walked out the door I screamed Don't leave me. Don't leave me."
"And then I lost it." My third image: I was standing in my room, up against the wall, my hands tearing something to pieces.
" I threw myself against the walls of my room. I tore at my hair and clothing. I cursed my friends and family. Sometimes I wanted to kill them all even myself."
"And then… I came here.. And I'm still so alone. And I'm still so… cold."
My monologue was over. Fresh tears hung in my eyes, not quite real enough to fall down my cheeks. I set myself in a heap in the circle, and waited for the performance to end.
As we were greeted with applause, we approached the grateful audience with the usual movie star smiles. They, like the performance, were an act, and no matter how horrible you might be feeling, you had to smile for your fans.
One smile I didn't have to fake I gave to him.
For the sake of clarity I'll call him Fiyero.
He hugged me and congratulated me and hugged me again. It was clear to anyone who as much as glanced at us that we were indeed close. Almost joined at the hip, together we were always a bundle of smiles, laughs, and dreamy looks. We were like something out of a chick flick. We were perfect together.
Together, we walked to our favorite spot in the park. Lying down on the grass, I asked him about the show, he gave the usual responses, and we just talked. That's something we could always do; just talk. We always said that no matter what, we would stay friends so that we could spend hours just talking. There always seemed to be so much to talk about: School, family, friends, we never got tired of it. And if we ran out of current events to discuss, we could remember instead.
"Remember how in 8th grade I totally didn't know that you liked me? Even after you asked me out?"
"Yeah, but I didn't know you liked me either."
"I know! We were so blind." Awkward pause…Though they were rare, they were inevitable.
"Oh wow." Long forgotten images and emotions filled my mind. "I just remembered something."
"What?"
"I can't believe I never told you this. It was a couple weeks after we had started going out. I had this sort of…vision.. Like a day dream, only unpleasant."
Passing Him in the halls, exchanging sad glances. There is nothing anybody can do.
"It just ran through my head and I didn't have any control over it. And the whole thing was kinda accompanied by this one song from the school musical. Remember? We did Joseph and the Amazing Technicolored Dream Coat?"
"Yeah, I remember, which song was it?"
" Those Canaan Days."
Lying on the grass, alone, and worrying. He's alone. I'm alone. I wish we could go back to the way it used to be.
"Do you remember the good days in Canaan
The summers were endlessly gold
The fields were a patchwork of clover
The winters were never too coldWe'd stroll down the boulevard together
And everything round us was fine"
No more walking together. No more talking together.
"Now the fields are dead and bare
No joie de vive anywhere
Et maintenant we drink a bitter wine Those Canaan DaysWe used to know
Where have they gone?
Where did they go?
Eh Bien, raise your berets
To those Canaan Days."
"I remember the song. What happened in the dream?"
"Well, for some reason, we had broken up, even though we didn't want to be…"
Walking into the bathroom… Opening the door…"And we were both so unhappy about it…"
So much blood. SO much blood…
"And you were so miserable…."
Falling to the floor, the blood mingling with my tears and staining my face.
"That you killed yourself."
NOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
I told him fast, getting it over quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid, hoping it wouldn't hurt as much.
"That's really…. Depressing."
"I know."
"You shouldn't think of things like that.
"I know I shouldn't, but it just came to me. I don't know why. I'll try not to think about it."