Never Let Them Define You

CONTEMPLATING BY MOONLIGHT

Walk from center stage to left, then hold there and look up, waiting for something unbeknownst to the audience. Oil drips from a ceiling rig; not actual oil, but it creates the effect of rain, which doesn't shock me when it hits. After a few seconds, BAM! Huge vat of oil spills over, completely covering me, and I freak out from disgust. What would be a good oil alternative? Never mind, then ten actors come out from each side, all wearing green leotards, and hurl coins at me in a stoning fashion. I attempt to flee, but the group surrounds me and pushes me into the center stage again, and I slowly cower out of fear and pain.

Dark crashing waves smash against minced boulders, creating a peaceful rhythm, and she idly traces a circle in the sand with her foot. Wonder how long those have been down there for...thousands of years? No, millions at least, right? She hops off the worn-down log and gracefully makes her way down the side of the cliff. After navigating the mess of rocks, she stops on a large one right by the edge, and sits down in the most comfortable way possible. She clutches at her massive, fur-lined coat, shivers deeply, then sighs and puts out her arms beside her for support.

What am I doing? Not just now, I mean, this is weird, but with Marco...I'm toying with him like a cat; he should know. Why would I get his hopes up like that? Did I just want the excitement? Just to do something unexpected? No, I surely had some greater intention, like to actually marry him...just maybe. No, no, never mind, that's all wrong, I have no intention of marrying anyone. Marriage is stupid, it's just like legal female slavery; I can't be subservient to a man, because I'm not, so I won't.

Why is it so hard to stand up for yourself as a woman? It's like the world is working towards softening you; be less this, do more that, compromise on everything, stop acting out, just stop being fucking noticeable, you bitch. "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!" she screams, then sighs, "Oh my God, I needed that." Her eyes fixate on the way the moonlight shimmers on the surface of the water and shifts with the passage of waves. Who am I doing this for, what am I doing at all, and why do I feel the need?

Part of me still wants to disgust the world...what if that's the way to do it? Art is about pure expression of self, so should the piece be about fighting fame? I don't think I should make it for the world, at least not in a way that compromises it; I think I need to make it for myself. How will I get permission to do something like that, though? "Hey, I want to make something that may or may not be profitable, because I don't care if it is or not, is that cool?" I'm not entirely sure if my manager is gonna dig that, but you never know until you try.

Her eyes catch something breaking out of the water far in the distance, a back, a spout, a spray jetting into the sky, and a tail flinging up before falling down again. The water settles quickly as if nothing was there but an impression remains in her mind. It should be like THAT...a burst, a flame, an explosion, then nothing, sizzling out, and fade to black. Like my entire life has existed just to create this one memory for the audience; and it has to be UNFORGETTABLE. The way a whale breaks the water, I will break the surface of all hearts who pass through mine, and I will redefine what it means to believe in something greater than yourself.

The subtle crackling of shoes on rocks breaks through her ears, then her head spins right, and she makes out a shadow figure approaching. She gets up and speedwalks backwards, then trips and falls on the rocks. "Ow."

"Oh my God, are you okay?!" shouts an exasperated, effeminate voice.

She sits up a bit, then rubs her head. "Who are you?"

"I just live around here; I heard a scream."

"Oh, yeah, don't worry, that wasn't the murder-y kind of scream."

"So, you're okay?"

"Yeah, I just needed to decompress...guess even that comes with a cost."

"I'm so sorry, I-"