Scene i; Deny, Deny, Denial.2
You know it’s over, when it’s over. And I guess it’s never really over until the end. But we all make our own endings, and we’ve all started dying the day we were born. We aren’t permanent. We aren’t everlasting. So why don’t we choose to pick up the pen and write our story the way we want to? Is it because we’re too scared of the critiques our new novel will receive? (After all, it’s your heart that is bleeding through the ink.) Is it because we don’t know how? (I mean, not everyone is a best selling author.) Maybe it’s just because in the reality of it all, we’re just average. Who decides the definitions anyways? I think maybe average isn’t so bad, as long as you’re happy. But everyone makes it out to seem as if average is one of the worst things out there. I think, as long as I’m okay with average, then average is okay with me. But at this point in time, I’m not even up to par with the average. I’m somewhere below that. I’m somewhere below life.
It was a sort of coincidence. Meeting up with you again.
They asked me to come back and do another set because the crowd had seemed to adore my last song… like I adored you. So I agreed. I mean, you can’t really deny a person of adoration, or else it starts to infest in the center, pit of your stomach and transform into a black hole. I knew the feeling all too well and it wasn’t pleasant. Besides – what else did I have to do? I didn’t have a girlfriend or anything, so my time was free.
They gave me two weeks. Enough time to “publicize and advertise and energize.” All of these ‘ize’s’. So in about a week I got together some new material, and I was ready to go. I didn’t think it was going to top your song, but I didn’t think that it was all that bad either.
I showed up at the venue with my guitar strapped on my back and they welcomed my sorry ass into the place. After the other bands ripped their hearts out and screamed their lungs out and smashed a few amps and guitars along the way, it was my turn to tune up. I got on stage and plucked at a few strings. I had a larger crowd here now. Definitely bigger than I did before. Not only was it because people liked my last song, but the venue let me play on Friday night. I’d played on Tuesday before and c’mon. Who really goes out to party at a show on Tuesday night? No one. That’s who. (Except you, of course.) Friday was a much broader audience, and I was terrified.
A creature crawled in my lungs and shredded the butterfly corpses. Then it crawled up my dusty throat, and uprooted a few thorny rose bushes on the way. I was about ready to spit it out, when I looked up and away from my guitar. You were sitting on a lap. Emphasis on a lap. This week it was a new one, but this week was different. As your thin fingers grasped his shirt and your thick lips grasped his mouth, you glanced up. It was only a split second, but that split second was enough to recognize me.
You finished the kiss and whispered something in the lap’s ears. I stopped tuning and stared at you, your body, your aura, as you walked to the crowd of waiting people. You pushed a few a side and snuck up to the front, a half grin smile glued to the front of your face as you looked up at me.
Flips. My stomach was doing flips. My heart was doing flips. My vision was doing flips. I think I was about to do flips – I can’t do flips. But it was all going down from there. This time, I could sing my song to you and you’d listen. Maybe you wouldn’t know it was about you or for you, but it would be something. A little bit closer than last time, right?
I coughed and the venue’s lights went spinning. Rainbows merging with my mind. The sweat was starting to roll down the back of my neck with my pricked hairs, standing on end.
“Well… hey everyone.”
A few muffled ‘hey’s’ were spit back at me.
“How are you all doing tonight?”
I definitely worked on my charisma. Practicing for hours in front of the mirror. Facial expressions, facial definitions, facial voices. It was all just a part of an act and entertainment.
It wasn’t working.
“Great. Okay. So… anyways. I was here a few weeks ago, and now, well… now, I’m back.”
A few claps and whistles or something. You were grinning. Laughing at my stupidity and insecurities. That’s okay. It doesn’t even matter. It didn’t even matter.
“I came up with some new stuff for you guys. I hope you like it.”
Here it goes. Here everything goes. Here you go.
Lift of the wrist, brush of the fingers, drop of the heart, and I’m already on my way. The chords are making a gentle, warm, hollow sound as they exasperate themselves over and over again in the ears of my listeners. This song was another song for you. I decided to write another one for you. I hadn’t really realized this while I started playing it, so the chords were wringing out and then it hit me. The thought just punched me in the face and the stomach and the mind as I realized I was singing me emotions for you, to you right now. You were looking up at me while I was staring down at you with every longing want, need, sincerity, that I had inside of me. I felt like I had some kind of power but I didn’t. You had it all.
I almost skipped the first chorus because I was so lost in thought of you. I practiced the guitar tabs time and time again so that I had it down to the tee. I had muscle memory stitched into my fingers. It was like breathing. Thinking of you was like breathing. Every time I took a breath, I did it. So I hadn’t even needed to pay attention as I played… but the song, I almost skipped that as I skipped a breath.3
Don't you forget me,
And I won't forget you.
The words are forever,
And the world is ours.4
The chords were ringing, I was strumming, kind of hard actually. Intense is more of the word. It was just happening.5
Don't you forget,
Everything that you said
To me,
I'm hopelessly
(hopelessly)
Useless.
This is the part in the song that if the song was a recording I would have had an echo saying, (In your arms) on top of the ‘useless’. But I was just one person singing in a show, by myself with me and my acoustic so I kinda left that part out.
Chords, chords, chords, I was painting rainbows with noise. Some people don’t even listen to this kind of music. It’s all subjective to opinions and earwaves and soundwaves and things like that. Did any of this actually mean anything? Probably not. It meant something to me though, and I breathe, so that makes some kind of difference. Maybe it meant something to the other people, listening to me, too.
If I had a piano, or even knew how to play it for that matter, I would have incorporated it into this song somehow. For some reason, pianos make love songs just ten million, five hundred thousand and three times better. They just do. It’s something about their strength and delicateness at the same time that just screams passion. 6
I just want to believe
In real and make believe.
I just want to believe,
In everything in between.
I just want to believe,
In Us. 7
I ended the song. The piano would have struck a note, the guitar hit a thick chord and lasted. They would have juxtaposed. I’m not that good though, so they didn’t. But it’s okay. The crowd adored it anyways. You were smiling that gorgeous smile at me. You lifted your hand and your fingers wiggled a delicate wave in my direction. I grinned as I sheepishly picked up my guitar and walked off the stage. You mustered your way through the crowd to the base of the steps and greeted me.
My pores melted into Popsicle puddles and mud puddles at my feet. I could feel my heart drip down the sleeves of my shirt. I could feel your breath in my face.
“Is that a new one?” Your lips pushed the words forward.
My voice almost cracked before I stopped it; “Yeah. They asked me to have some new stuff to play this week.”
“Is it for Her?” You tucked a tuft of hair behind your ear.
“You betcha.” My smile shifted to the right side of my face and I could feel the blush painting itself on my cheeks.
“Well is she here?” You flipped your head around and looked behind your shoulders into the flooded crowd of people.
I nodded my head and shut my eyes as the sound of my eyelashes in slow motion went, “thwap… thwap… thwap.”
“Well where is she?” You said in a sort of excitement. It was obvious that you were a real social butterfly. You probably didn’t care much about school or much about health but you were a real people person and you knew how to wrap everyone around the base of your finger.
“Don’t worry about it,” I hushed as the next band started setting up on stage behind me. Sweat was crawling on the walls in the shadows of every person. Their shapes were painted on the walls and floors and ceilings, but only temporarily. We’re all just temporary.
You picked at your acryclic, flaming red nail as you eyeballed it. You looked back up at me.
“Hey, do you wanna like… get out of here? Maybe go do something?” I scratched the nape of my neck nervously and my shoes dug into the concrete ground. I looked up and added, “I’m getting a headache.”
You glanced around at the people that were throbbing in rhythm with the surrounding music and you looked back at me. You sort of smiled, I sort of melted, and you replied, “Sure.”
It was so casual. So carefree. So you. If a random person asked me to get out of a place where I just met them, I’m not sure if I’d even be talking to them to begin with, let alone leaving with them.
Electrocutions of falling stars were shimmering through my veins and screaming with excitement. Flashes of colors lit up my blood cells and the tips of my fingers itched with iridescence. My shoes took a few steps forward and I pushed through the light crowd as I pushed a layer of bangs out of my eyes. My cheeks were burning with delight and my eyelids blushed with heartache.
We walked out into the flush of night, which was very similar to the previous night we had sat outside together. The stars littered the sky and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
You threw your arms out and took in the crisp air, invading your lungs. You did a small twirl and resolved yourself back to your original state, smiling slightly as the cool wind brushed your face. You grabbed my arm and my nerves exploded. Your head rested on my shoulder and I smiled at you.
No words can explain anything that I felt.
You were beautiful. You are beautiful. Everything about you just enchanted me.
“So where are we going?” You asked as the streetlights bit your cheekbones.
“To the moon,” I whispered.
We walked through the star dusted puddles, shining on the black ground, and we walked through the lamps that slept on the blades of grass. We listened to the orchestral music of the cars rushing by and watched the changing of the guards on the stoplights; green, yellow, red; in perfect harmony with the metronome of the roads. We walked past the shops open still at midnight and we traveled through the dreams of the dark. We talked about small stuff, big stuff, any kind of stuff, and we walked past the businesses of our city and rested on the edge of our simple, small, countryish land.
A few trees separated this patch of wheat and weeds, a pond and a weathered tree, the sky and a few barrels of hay, from the rest of life. A tiny, miniature forest separated this haven from everything else. It was perfect. Everything about it was. To the left of the space was a small pond, covered in cattails and creeping frogs. In the center was a large space of golden grass reaching for the nighttime sun. To the right was a single tree, looming in full blossom of leaves. Surrounding this area was a forest and rolls of hay.
“This is stunning,” you said in awe. You grabbed onto my hand as we took small steps through the grass.
My hand. You were holding my hand.
We hurried under the tree and sat against the aging bark as it’s inhabitants rested.
“You know,” you started. “You write really good songs.”
Your lips formed the words perfectly and your teeth spoke truth. Your eyes had a way of smiling even though nothing else on your body was. But even though you had this social-like aspect to you, something about you still had a poise of maturing before you should have.
It was perfect. Everything was perfect. Not a flaw existed in this moment.
“Thanks.” I fingered my shoelaces with an anticipation of nervousness. I glanced up and saw you watching me. You picked your hand up and off of the ground and placed it on my knee.
“You’re really good at, well, being you,” I replied.
Lame.
You giggled. “I try. I can only be me, so I might as well be the best me.”
My heart was trying to escape my (ri
cage and I was trying to confine it to its limits. Why?Your fake fingernails and slender fingers inched up my legs until you reached my hips. Oh my hips and oh, oh, oh, your hand.
I picked my hand up and off of the cold dirt and placed it on yours. My lips were small and centered. Yours were itching. Itching what? I don’t know, but itching. Itching something, for something, for anything.
A wind rustled your hair.
You leaned in and with a graceful move you were leaning up against me.
Your breath was like a scent of sincerity on my soul. Your heat was like the dripping of a Popsicle on a hot summer’s day. Your everything was something I wanted. Something that I had wanted for a long time and never expected to get. Not ever, not so soon, not at all.
But here it was. Here you were. Here I was. Here we were. Together. Under the atmosphere, practically in each other’s laps. You let out a small chuckle and your arms rest on my shoulder as we slowly fell to the ground. I was lying flat as you looked into my eyes.
I swear, you probably saw my secrets and my soul.
The moon was a witness. The crickets were witnesses. The Earth was a witness. We weren’t alone, even though we knew and thought we were.
Your lips touched mine and the butterflies were let loose like the horses at a durby. You know, it’s kind of like a car crash. You know it’s terrible, you know something bad happened. You see the flames, you see the flashing lights, and the panic. The panic drenches the air, but you
Still
Have
To look.
You have to watch the commotion to see what’s going on, you just can’t help but know the answers. You know it’s not right, but you watch anyways. Just to see what you expected- a body, a missing head, all of that fun stuff. You’ve learned your lesson, to never look at a car wreck again and with every ounce of self discipline the next time it happens you remember the last time.
But you still look.
You have to. It’s like a car crash, you know it’s not pleasant, or good, but you look anyways. We thrive off of pain. We thrive off of knowledge. We thrive off of power.
I felt my insides ride roller coasters and my skin crawl against itself. The kiss felt like a thousand lamps, bursting with genies and wishes. The kiss felt like a lipstick container, bursting in passion. The kiss felt like Heaven. The kiss felt like perfect. The kiss felt like you.
Your hands reached for my chin as we continued to kiss. Then slowly, your hands ran down my neck and I was still paying attention to the art I was creating with your lips. Then I felt the hands fall down my torso, and hold onto my hipbones.
I think my heart had found a way out by now.
I think I failed at containing anything that night.
I’ve never really had a girlfriend. Ever. I’ve never really had my first kiss, or my first of anything. This was a first for everything. I thought it was a first for perfection.
They say, you can’t ever be perfect. They say that nothing can ever be perfect.
Well, I thought this was the first time you could.
I thought we beat the odds.
Before long, your hands fell down to the belt loops on my pants. Then your fingers and bright, acrylic nails found their way to the button on my jeans. My tight jeans.
Your lips ran down my neck, streaking a trail of red kisses and you shifted yourself to a position where you could pull down my pants. You pulled me up and we sat on our knees as you unbuttoned the vest on your chest. You threw it on the ground and then crossed your arms to pull off the size small, white, tshirt. You threw that somewhere else. Still kissing me, you pulled down your pants too.
The grass stains were leaking into my clothes.
The moon was spinning in orbit and controlling the tides.
The busyness of the city life was living itself out in the outside world – away from our haven.
The bugs were singing and the frogs were crying.
We were just there.
I felt every emotion die inside of me and every past experience reminisce in my head.
It was sincere, it was real, it was then.8
I am in love.9
You clung onto me like there was no tomorrow, and I had honestly hoped that no tomorrow turned up – I wanted the moment to be framed forever.
The stars scattered the sky and the moon slept under its night, and we stayed awake with pure, intentional adrenaline. 10
It was everything I could ask for.
It was everything I did ask for.
It was sensational.11
We lied together in the grass and in the Earth and in the moment. We lied together, like no one has (lied) before.
I kissed your forehead and shut my eyes.
Before I went to sleep I had a thought. I thought that the trail of kisses you left down my neck would lead me back to you. But I guess I thought wrong.12
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