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Tear Stained Letters
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Tear Stained Letters |
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Tamma
since 2000-01-17
Posts 794In His Arms, Harpers Ferry, WV 
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This is the ongoing story of my life, and every 6 months to a year, I add more to the story... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I am nothing but a mere actress in the play of my life. My friends and family are nothing but actors and actresses surrounding me. I will walk across the stage until the spotlight goes black. No scripts, I just go by what my heart tells me. Every thing is real, from the tears to the sighs. Now, I must remember when I hear the word ‘goodbye’ that’s my cue to cry. He walked in, told me he loved me, but he can't stay with me, because he’s met her. The tears begin to fall, a common occurrence, in this, the play that is my life. That is how it always seems to be, they meet her, and say ‘goodbye’ to me. I've saved all the goodbye letters, stained with tears. I pull them out of my old shoebox, every now and then. They wouldn’t recognize me, now. They come back to play another part. Without a script its hard to find the words to tell them how I felt back then. Things have changed. I was forced to say goodbye, even though that was the last thing I wanted. The love took but only a few months to grow but took years to fade. The scene is set, neither of us know we’re about to run into each other, again. I stop, stare, and realize who it is. Each year that I live, another act is added, I am now at the close of the 15th act. Who knew I’d ever see him again? At the end of every act I pull out the tear stained letters and begin to add more stains. As I close the letter, the act closes as well. I sing and dance about the stage. Knowing, but without a care that they are watching my play. I look into his eyes, knowing he has the script. Theres nothing I can say, the script is blank. This play is far from over, but a new scene is about to begin. As it starts, I'm in his arms. He says he loves me. Then before he walks away, he hands me a tear stained letter. The audience is out there, laughing at my misfortune. They, only spectators, are on their way to becoming actors in my life. All the actors have left; I'm on the stage alone. They tears begin to fall and I begin my speech. No one knows, no one will listen. So why should I even try to explain? You don’t care; you are only acting as if you do. I get a mere glimpse of my script, and get handed yet another tear stained letter. Another goodbye to live through. I fall to the stage in tears, the audience, not knowing my next move. I jump up and begin to dance and run around, none of them knowing I'm dying on the inside. I must hide all the tears. I've become an expert throughout the past 16 acts. I am able to hide all emotion. I can sit there, and act as if I'm happy, and they’ll believe it, even though I'm crying on the inside. It takes all my strength not to run up to him, kiss him, and then strangle him. I now realize I didn’t deserve what he did. No one deserves to be abused. I have scars on my back, as well as my heart. I do not regret saying ‘goodbye’ to him at all. Since I told him ‘goodbye’ and handed him a tear stained goodbye letter, things have kind of fallen into place. I now must keep my heart under lock and key, so it can never be stomped upon again. The curtain is soon going to close upon another act, and begin the 17th. The acts are going by quicker and quicker. Another goodbye letter is about to become stained with tears. Instead of going with my gut, I went with my heart. I thought what I saw in his eyes was love. Boy, was I wrong. As I begin to give in to him, and show him my heart, I look at my past, and realize, that he’s the one I've been searching for. I feel it when I'm in his arms; I see it in his eyes. I struggle not to give into him, I must keep myself. I dance, and fly and sing about the stage, overjoyed, but for no apparent reason. This is typical of me, trying to hide my true feelings through laughter, but this is how I truly feel. They see the difference, unbelieving that I could be so truly happy. Suddenly, I stop and begin to sing an unknown song. They look at me, strangely, as if this is new for me. It is, to be singing such a happy song. I take his hand and we begin to sing to each other. What more can I do? I must let them know how I feel for him. Without a script, not a word comes to mind. I must prove myself to him. My only thought is nothing you need to know. I stare into his eyes, and he knows I love him. I have given as well as received more than enough tear stained letters throughout the 17th act. There are some I never stop thinking about, but others have completely slipped my mind. There are only a few scenes left in the 17th act. Just a few more heartbreaks to go through. No one quite understands. Everything I say, everything I do, is nothing but an act. There may be a few tymes that I may be truly happy. A crush? A mere crush? If it were only a crush, why does it hurt so bad when I know that I only have half a scene with him? I have had so many guys come and go in this act, and yet, I still go on. And I have to admit, that I meet guys in the strangest places. I have pictures of guys that I know I may never see again, so, I have a few tear stained pictures as well. So many of them have said they loved me, but why did they walk away so fast, and leave me to read a tear stained letter, knowing my past with them? It is now almost instinct, when a guy gives me a letter, and walks away, the tears fall, before I get the chance to read the letter. Its hard, not to let my heart fall so fast, when I know that it will be broken again. It’s so hard for me to believe that all this heartache is preparing me for the rest of my life. Now, I'm left wondering just what the rest of my life is going to consist of. It’s about time for me to pull out all my old memories, again. Letters, and pictures, and now I'm beginning to wonder why I've saved the things that have cause me so much heartache. Then I remember that everytime I read them, they make me cry, but in the end, they make it easier to go on. < !signature--> (if ya ever wanna chat, you can IM me on AOL: sexikitticat -or- Poetic Bliss 82) *A poets mind never rests, It is always dreaming* [This message has been edited by Tamma (edited 07-10-2000).] |
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| © Copyright 2000 Tamma M. Wilson - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Tim Gouldthorp Member
since 2000-01-03
Posts 170 |
Tamma, Nice idea in seeing life as a play. I think a lot of people feel this powerlessness and alienation from 'reality.' I'd like the narrator, maybe in a sequel, through in some drama, destroy the script as it were, free themselves from the lingering recurrance of memory. Nice work. -Tim |
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Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
A very interesting concept.. the years of your life as "acts." Good creativity! |
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