TheQuietActress

When I was a little girl, my mother was beautiful. I would climb off of the school bus at the end of the day alight with excitement at the prospects of seeing my mother and telling her about my day at school. She would meet me at the door as she always did and pick me up into her loving arms and spin me around and around and around until my troubles disappeared and thoughts of the boy who called me names on the playground were no longer relevant because my mother loved me. She would kiss me on the forehead and sit me on the kitchen counter as she cooked dinner for my father and I. And she loved me. And I loved her. Daddy would come home with

 Mr. and Mrs. didn’t have names anymore. They used to have very pretty, appealing names and a brick house with a garden and a large family and even a cat, who also had a nice name. Sometimes, if Mr. and Mrs. thought really hard, they could remember small remnants of the lives they used to lead. The one thing they remembered the most was the sound of beautiful music. “A melody,” Mrs. would say with dreamy eyes. “A beautiful melody.” Mr. would nod and lean his head back in an attempt to dream of the music. Life was much simpler since they had been forgiven. Nearly all thoughts and memories of life below had been fo

Sometimes at night you would call me and sing to me. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away. Now that you're gone, I've torn this song apart, trying to search for a hidden sign that I must have missed somewhere because surely you must have been trying to tell me something, but all that I can find are vague promises that I'm glad you never made because you certainly didn't keep them. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Now this cannot possibly be true because we need sunshine to live and if I were your only sunshine, y

I was 13 when I first met the boy who taught me so much. I remember looking up at him on a bare stage and watching. I watched because he was so talented and I wanted to learn how he manipulated the words on paper and made them sound like poetry. I watched because I wanted to learn how he made the other kids laugh when there was so much to cry about. I watched because I wanted to know him. I was shy when I first started acting. I remember sitting in corners by myself and waiting for someone to notice me. I remember hoping to God that someone would see past my walls. I remember the day when he did. And I remember how he slowly became my friend

Sometimes I look at you and wonder Why I choose to look at you. You look just like everyone else, Yet my eyes crave a glimpse of Your face. I love what you stand for. I love how you make me laugh. I love how you talk. I love the soft scratching sound of Your pencil on paper as you answer Each and every question given To us because you know nearly Everything. Perhaps that's why I choose to Look at you. Because I love what You do.

She frowned at the bottle of cough medicine sitting there, just there, on her bedside table. She reasoned that she would take it when she was able. Because of a bitter taste she pushed away the one substance that would make her better. Her conscience spoke, "Fool! You child! Only children have zero self discipline. Be a big girl, now." So she breathed deeply and enclosed the bitter syrup within the depths of her mouth and grew up,

Obliviate in silence - memories erased. A single tear falls.

Everything is dead here. The once welcoming halls are silent and cold. The icebox is barren and the yard is full of scraps from a past life that no one has bothered to remove. Your picture hangs on the wall and watches. Daring me to be the change you wanted to see in the world. But instead I turn and fill my glass to the brim with something of a poison And try to forget. That everything is dead here.