|luckily my parents hate each other so this has never been a real problem for me|
In my high school we had mandatory drama courses. Our very cool drama teacher seemed to offset the inherent dread felt by everyone but myself and a few other attention seeking douches who actually liked the class. One of our assignments was to prepare and act out a monologue. Simple, straightforward, should've picked something from the Aristocats as even that would've been less embarrassing than what I chose.
|everybody wants to be a cat, especially furries|
The day of our performances is a day that lives in infamy (in my mind alone). I don't even know what triggered the memory to float back into my consciousness but here it is in all its secondhand embarrassment. I was wearing a gigantic mint-green fleece sweater from Lands End, which somehow clung to every roll of fat on my teen-aged body. I paired this beauty with a pair of exaggerated flared jeans from Old Navy. I looked like the Michelin man doused in mint toothpaste trapped in the 70s. I also had band aids covering the tips of every one of my fingers, but that is an entirely more disturbing story for a more troubling blog post at a more desperate time.
As soon as my name was called I hobbled up to the stage and tried to jump up like all the cool kids did, but failed and simply rolled up onto it, as I could find no better way of getting up there. Like taking the stairs.
I don't remember much of the composition but I do remember the last line, "...and I woke up [dramatic pause] to my nightmare." I was supremely proud of this shocking, twist ending and thought of myself as a modern day Edgar Allan Poe: so creative, so haunting, so pale.
Actually, I do remember the gist of what I wrote which is this: the first person narrator was abducted and tortured by strange creatures with red glowing eyes. At some point s/he blacked out (probably due to the mass amounts of specified torture) and woke up, relieved it had all been a dream! A nightmare! but no, in an instant I M. Night Shyamaland everyone's asses and had a super awesome twist ending: It was true!! It was all so painful and real!! and the pain of my performance was very real, too.
Halfway through my monologue, the Class Douche's phone went off. I know he did this on purpose to torture me. Not only was I the new girl, I was the weird girl obsessed with her cats. I soldiered through his customized ringtone and finished to dead silence...Except for my teacher, who later asked me if I'd ever considered a career in writing (he was later fired for abusing drugs).
|the cool teacher isn't always so cool. case in point: glee|
but I did keep writing. I even went on to get a degree in writing, and a year later I work in retail part time and live at home with my parents. Then this long forgotten memory emerged, and I woke up to my nightmare.