Ride the Cyclone +

Noel's Lament

I'd like to learn how to love.

Maybe it's not me saying this. Maybe it's the crippling, destructive fear of being alone. The agonizing nights of longing for something that would never come. Almost like waiting at a train station but the train never comes. Stuck waiting for painful, elongated hours just to stay trapped in a penitentiary of loneliness.

Maybe that part of me is speaking. Maybe not.

Maybe it's the fact I'll be trapped in a never-ending, mundane cycle if I don't find what I long for. I can already see it: Wake, eat, write, eat, write, choir, work, eat, sleep, repeat. Wake, eat, write, eat, write, choir, work, eat, sleep, repeat. Wake, eat, write, eat, write, choir, work, eat, sleep, repeat.

An excruciating, tedious, infinite sequence of robotic-like apathy. I can already feel myself drifting into the grasps of inevitability. Nothing in my colorless life changes anymore, a simple loop of despair and hopelessness.

I was always told as a child I was "A bit much". Maybe that's where it all started. I had vast, colorful dreams, and I would talk to no end. I enjoyed reciting French poetry and plays from the old days, reminiscing on what it was like to live in revolution and rebellion. I lived in hopeful and eager anticipation of what life would present me. But when I realized that the world wasn't ready for a star such as myself, sadly through trial and error, I kept to myself. It didn't matter if I had no one to share my ambitions and such with, I could manage well enough on my own.

I have some friends in the choir, but I don't think I could actually tell them anything. There's Constance Blackwood, whose parents owned the Blackwood café. They took pride in what they did. She's known as the nicest girl in town, but I don't actually know her that well. Then, there's Ricky Potts, who nobody knows that well. He's a mute boy who has a disability that prevents him from walking without aid. Although I'm not completely sure, I believe he has no friends.

There's Ocean O'connell Rosenburg, the smartest girl in town. She's my enemy. I wouldn't even count her as a person, more of a succubus. Finally, there's Mischa Bachinski, who everyone has named the angriest boy in town. I couldn't tell him anything about my life if I tried because he would go on blabbering about his online "fiancé". Ocean says she's fake, but then again, I wouldn't trust anything that came out of Ocean's mouth if my life depended on it.

I wish I could lead a life full of adventure. Full of uncertainty and risk. Even though in my current, futile life I'm known as Noel Gruber, in my dreams, I play a different role. I'm Monique Gibeau in post-war France. You see, my life is so senseless and inconsequential. I feel I was born in the wrong era. I want bad love. I wish I could be thrown around by life. I wish I had a man that would drive me to drink. I wish I could feel. Whenever I would read Les Misérables, I would always find myself dreaming of being in Fantine's shoes. I want to be a tragic tale. That's why, in my dreams, I'm Monique Gibeau: someone who takes love where she can, writes poems to burn by firelight, someone who burns herself with cigarettes and guzzles gin. I want to be known. I want to be tragic.

That's why,

I'd like to learn how to love.

A/N

(594 words )

Im submitting this in my english class so yea