“Heres to us at the End of the Line”

Everyone has different experiences that define their teenage years. For some it’s prom, or AP Classes, being on the track team or that summer spent in Arizona volunteering with “Houses for Humanity.” Then there are those who fall in love (or lust, let’s be real here).  I am one of those unfortunate girls in high school who fell head over heels for a boy only to have him date another girl for two and a half years. He was one of my oldest and best friends– he took me to junior prom. When everything hit the fan, a lot of horrible things were said on both sides. I didn’t really truly get over it until about a year and a half ago.  It’s been on my mind a lot recently.

For my drama class we were each given a partner and had to create improvisational scenes dealing with loss.  My scene included two best friends, a boy and a girl, who had just lost their shared apartment to a horrible fire caused by the boy’s girlfriend leaving tinfoil in the microwave. After delivering the horrifying news that everything was lost in the blaze an argument ensues, culminating with the girl insisting the boy dump the ditty of a girlfriend. Basically forcing him to choose between his best friend and her. The boy chooses the girlfriend.

Welcome to the end of my junior year of high school… minus the burning building. I didn’t make this exhilarating correlation until I was instructed to preform a follow-up improvisational monologue. I delivered a heartbreaking scene of a woman pleading to her best friend to choose their friendship over his relationship. That Sigmund Freud sure had some things figured out. I do not retain my feelings for this boy, I assure you. I am perfectly happy to call him my very good friend (yes, we still speak, often in fact).  It just seems to be one of those weird coincidences possibly influenced by my evil subconscious. My past just snuck into my present, yelled “Boo!” and knocked me on my bony ass. I’m having to say those same words,  think those same thoughts.

On one level, I hate having to relive it, but on another, I revel in every reminder that it is over.  I like being able to look back, since for the longest time I was in the thick of agony. In the end I am left with two things: 1.the sappy notion that all pain will pass and nothing lasts for ever and 2. a fucking excellent monologue laced with real emotion pulled from a personal experience. How’s that for a silver lining?

on a side note- the lyric at the top is from Mandy Moore’s “Ladies Choice” off the album Wild Hope. It’s an excellent break up album (she has Zack Braff to thank for that one I believe).

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