Short story: An Ode to Who? - Jeffcode

#6:Colours of Spring

It turns out that I am a dancer throughout her, the lead female role , monologue. In fact, I am the only male character in the whole scene. However I turn up with a mask, like cloth on my face, so I am not to be noticed as I am to be a pure fragment of her imagination.

This scene is during rehearsals , but every time we practise it , it feels like a dream...but a real one. Very complicated.

Every second, from the first step I take onto the stage, I feel the character, her pain, her sorrow. She is a character who cannot have the man she is in love with. Her love is for someone so far out of her reach,  she can't help but remorse over it. And I , as her imaginary fragmentation lover, depict the male she wishes she had and I later on contradict myself by turning into the male she actually wants. I said it was complicated.

Nonetheless, I dance around her, for her for the first part and then, once her nonverbal expression ends the mood and focus changes. I am then to dance before her , in front of her, eventually scaring her away from her own imagination.

And the scene ends with me simply disappearing off of the stage.

I hate my character, myself in this part of the play. And I cannot help by sympathise with the counter character at that point.

Living in a dream of what she wishes would happen, but once she comes to her reality, it's a dark and diminishing one. All I hope for is for my ending to be like that of the play. A happy one.

I am met with cheers and well dones when I finish the scene in front of everyone for the first time in whole cast rehearsals a few weeks later.

It is now edging onto the end of the winter and beginning of spring , in fact it is the last week of winter. The seniors' exams are a couple of months away and the script is technically finished. The ambience was that of the colours orange magenta, with warm greens and pastel yellows. The feelings of spring are already catching people by their noses.

I must admit though, I did feel somewhat disconnected. If I were to associate how I'm feeling with a colour, they would be ugly dead colours , like military greens. Any colour that can dampen the mood of the room.

While supporting almost all the Seniors in preparation for all their exams , I find myself simply only really praying for Jeff and Creamy's successions. Though I do get an underlying feeling of guilt whenever I see them sharing their success with their other friend's. It's not healthy.

Creamy has tried to talk to me; she can tell something is up... but I can never tell her what is wrong in any sort of way that she'll be able to understand. These feelings are so new to me...so foreign I can't even explain them to her because it makes me feel...unlike me.

I got home that evening and grew, dry sobbing into my pillow. Jeff has me wrapped around his pinky finger and he doesn't even know it.

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