Wednesday, June 22, 2011

If I were to write a play entirely centered in the mind of a disturbed girl

how would it go?


The dialogue of the play is languid and artistic, not colloquial, and everyone wears somewhat avant-garde type costumes.

cages
walking shadows - influential memories, people, emotions
surrealism
music
prominent usage of colors
archetypes
some frightening imagery
Dante?
very interpretive sets, props, costumes

Friday, June 17, 2011

Aesthetic Franticisms

I wrote this a year ago.



I know franticisms is not a word, just to clear up any confusion.

Call me emo. Call me stupid. Be irritated. Be better than me. At this point, I just expect it from you. All of you. To look at the situation, see how it applies to you, and then get offended and not see how it affected me. How it is affecting me. It's okay, too, because I'd probably do the same thing. It's natural.

I feel extremely mixed up and confused right now, because I feel like I'm being slowly forgotten by all those people around me who care except for four people.

I know I act like I'm over it and I stress that it's cool - I'm not mad or upset or anything - but I'm not over it and I am upset. Razia's Shadow failed only because of my friends who are "flaky" and choose to disregard something into which they all poured some part of their lives.

You're "flaky."

I'm sorry, but that's almost insulting with how trivial it is. You're "flaky" and this is something that I invested so much time, money, self and emotional conflicts in just to see it succeed. And you're "flaky," so you'd rather watch it wither and die than push forward a little more and watch it bloom into an amazing show.

Yes, I understand that it's my project, so of course I'm more willing to put forth my effort, but everyone pushed for it. Everyone sacrificed a lot. Everyone learned a lot. Everyone had fun.

Your "heart isn't in it anymore." You're "flaky." "It's not your fault, Kate."

I'm sick of your bullshit.

I'm fucking ANGRY at the fact that the first thing I ever really put all my faith in failed because of your fucking whims and your lack of caring enough about me and the project to see it live.

Yeah, I'm angry. ANGRY. I'm fucking furious.

I just had to sit on my hands and watch it DIE because I didn't want to seem bitchy about being upset that you all have your own lives to worry about. I know it's insensitive of me. I know it is. I tell myself that every time I think about this. But I still feel like you're being extremely insensitive toward me by just dropping it like a fucking worthless rock because you got bored with it and decided you didn't want to put forth any more effort.

It upsets me the most because I'd do it for you. If you had something you were so extremely passionate about, so completely immersed in, so set on attempting something of its nature as a career choice, I'd sacrifice whatever the fuck you wanted me to sacrifice to see it through because I care about you.

Only a couple of you might read this and I hope you don't think that I'm pissed at you for having your own life or not caring as much about the project as I do, because that's not it at all. I love you guys. I really do. But to watch something so valuable, so beautiful just DIE because some people were "flaky" and bored really, really, really cuts deep in an area that hasn't stopped bleeding.

I hate myself for not deserving enough respect.

I hate myself for not proving to you all how important this project was to me.

I hate all of you for not caring about it and, indirectly, my life.

I hate all of you for never changing and always leaving me out.

But, truthfully, I just hate myself for not being good enough for you.

I really want to kill myself - true. But I most likely won't because there's still a chance that I might achieve something. There's still a couple of people that really, really love me, even though they weren't involved with Razia or dropped out of it. There's still the image in my head of a group of friends walking out of a movie theater and buzzing about the movie that they just watched. There's still the shadow of a future society on which I might leave a mark. There's still a whisper of applause.

But sometimes, I just want you all to watch me fucking burn as you sit helplessly. I want to know that you'd actually be sad if I fucking died, because no one seems to care that we have no fucking classes together or lunch together or that we don't hang out after school.

If I cut myself off from the world, who'd actually remember me?

My mom
Brian
Ray
Conner

Maybe Nicole.

At least there's those, I guess.




It's really amazing how much has changed in a year.

Wow.