To the two of you that said you’d like if I put up the screenplay I wrote, I’m flattered, just by your thoughts. You’ve convinced me. Guess that wasn’t so hard. 
I understand if you don’t get through the entire thing, or decide not to read it after all, but here it is.
If you do read it, I’d love to hear your thoughts. As of now, let’s just call it: “Letting Go.”

These are the deflections of a leaning heart
Astray in the desires of understanding and losing oneself,
We have become fond of forgetting, and things we must let go of.
Every breath that crosses my thoughts is drawn from the depths 
Of the tomorrows that await between us, strumming my heartstrings,
Leaving little pieces of shadow inside my mind
Burning, flickering my memory at the edges until I can’t tell apart
Dream from memory, wishes from nightmares.

White stucco, sun-washed walls (kind of like Greece). A turret goes around the house, a floor to ceiling glass window opens up to the patio area. Everything is bright, white, sunlit. The house is up somewhere high, above the ocean. The ocean stretches, as far as you can see, shining in the sunlight. It does not glitter, but it shines. The waves twinkle and reflect, every ray, every thought. The height of the house is significant, the ocean lies far below, maybe several hundred feet. The edge of the height is unclear.
A girl stands at the edge of the patio. Barefoot, holding a sketchbook.
“We should take a boat out. Out onto the ocean, and we’ll see where we go….Where we can go.”
From behind her, a boy.
“Or we could walk…(Beat.) But, I know how to drive a boat.”
The girl looks back, a slight smile on her lips, her eyes, always holding a sense of exhilaration.
“Come with me. Let’s find a boat. Let’s go. We can go anywhere.”
He smiles, a faint laugh. He steps forward, a light hand on her back. They are looking out onto the ocean.
“Anywhere.”
She looks up, leaning slightly into him, nudging him slightly. A faint pout.
“Are you laughing at me?”
He laughs now, shaking his head and pulling her closer. He whispers into her hair, by her ear.
“No, noo, no, not laughing at you…You just.. make me laugh. It’s a good thing.”
Still pouting a little, with a playful and pretended doubtful expression, “Mhmm…”

* * * * *

The sun is a little lower now, maybe about 75 degrees above the horizon. The ocean is still blue. The light is only slightly softer.
The girl sits, on the same patio, on the ledge, feet dangling. You can’t see off the ledge, just that she’s sitting right on the edge, high above whatever is down there. She looks caught in thought, but she is whistling some tune. Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she speaks, but without looking back.
“Do you even drive boats? Don’t you…steer them? Or something. I feel like ‘drive’ belongs to something else. Maybe…like ‘sail the boat’, or even ‘pilot’ but ‘drive’ tastes funny when I say it.”
He shakes his head, laughing. Continues the tune she was whistling for a little, then says.
“Maybe. Maybe you’re right. I like ‘sailing’ then. It feels freer. So we can sail…Somewhere, anywhere…No driving, just, sailing…We’ll go…”
She nods in agreement. After pausing a moment, she speaks.
L: “Or we could fly.”
J: “…Fly…”
L: “Yeah, like Icarus.”
J: “You know…Icarus dies.”
L: “I’m not stupid, I know. But he wasn’t smart. He didn’t know the melting point of wax.”
J: “Okay, technical. So you’d fly. But you’d be smarter about it?”
L: “Of course. You underestimate me. It’d have to be sailing or flying. Nothing else suits me.” She nods to herself, squints her eyes a little in the sun.
L: “So?”
J: “So…? Why do you think I have something? Something to say? Does it ever occur to you that I’d just come back out for no particular reason?”
You can hear a faint smile on his lips.
L: “Well, I don’t know. You must…have a reason. Even if you don’t think you do, I think you do. You must. Most things have reasons. Things have intention…it’s just the way it is.”
She says it in a matter of fact way, but without any sense of imposing or pushiness. There’s a sense of airiness to the way she speaks, as if she floats her words.
J: “Tell you the truth, I did have a reason. You’re probably right. I feel like I’m always agreeing with you…but I guess… a person moves, does something, because they’re moved by something. My reason, at least this time, was because I have something for you, but hey…hey, don’t get too excited.”
She finally turns, open curiosity in her eyes. The sun reflects a little into her eyes and she squints again, just a little as she looks up at him standing behind her. She smiles.
L: “Ooh. What is it…? You’re hiding something in your hands…, behind your back. I can see it. Come on, that’s so obvious, you’re not even hiding it. People only hide things behind their backs so that they can show it, so that it’s clear they’re ‘hiding’ something. Isn’t that funny? (she tilts her head a little, smiling.)…Anyways…so..? What is it?”
J: (clearing throat) “First, tell me. Tell me why you’re smiling. Are you making fun of me? Shouldn’t you appreciate that I’ve brought you something?”
L: (sighing loudly, theatrically) “First off, I’m not making fun of you. I’m just observing. If I was making fun of you, you’d know. I’d be laughing at you. Smiling at you is not the equivalent of laughing at you. Second, why am I smiling? Really? That shouldn’t even be a question. Invalid. Won’t answer it. You should know why. Third, I would appreciate it if it was something good…depends what it is. Most likely though, I will, because it’s something you brought me. So, now, stop stalling, and let me know what it is.”
J: “You’re impossible.” Shaking his head, he brings out what he’s hiding. A brown paper bag, folded neatly over at the top.
L smiles and reaches for the bag. “Bread and jam. I know it is. What are you doing, just holding it? Come on, I’m hungry!”
J pulls away, sidesteps a little, dodging her hand.
J: “Easy there, whoa…easy! Where is it?”
L scrunches up her face a little and pouts.
L: “Thank you! There. Now, come, sit down, let’s get down to business.”

J sits down beside her, near the ledge but cross-legged. He opens the bag and carefully places the bread (white bread) and jar of strawberry jam onto his legs. He then lays out the brown paper bag onto the ground, flat. Next, he puts the jam and bread on the bag, lays out two silver butter knives and unscrews the jar of jam. L watches him, with surprising patience, following his movements with her eyes. She pauses, and then picks up a slice of bread, then picks up the knife. Within moments, the strawberry jam is spread evenly on her piece.
She hums with satisfaction and hands J the slice she just made. He acknowledges the gesture with a smile and a raise of the eyebrows and takes a bite. She soon finishes making hers and starts eating as well. There is a lull in the air, a comfortable silence. Far off, the waves can be heard, perhaps for the first time.
L: “But you can’t ‘sail’ a boat without sails. Are we getting a sailboat?”
You can tell by the way she says it, she is speaking to the wind rather, and J does not answer.
After another moment or two.
L: “Look, look at the waves. They just keep coming…and going. Don’t you ever wonder if they ever get tired? If they ever get bored? I wonder if they ever get sad…I wonder if sometimes, they look at the moon…all the way above them and they just feel like they need a drink, look at the moon and feel like they want to drink…you know, just to feel a little freer..or something.”

J: “Drunk?”
L: “Because sometimes, I sit here, at night, and I think about that…and then I feel like I need to drink…so I do. It’s the only time I ever feel like drinking. I always get that glass with that little chip on the brim, and the light…from the moon, sometimes hits it in a certain way, and I know why I’m drinking. I feel like I’m drinking a piece of the moon. (Laughing) Something crazy like that.”
J: “Yeah..maybe, the moon…crazy…”
L: “Those nights…I think about the waves. I’ve got no reason to be sad, I really don’t, but I feel it in me. It’s like the burn of alcohol, it gets me really deep, inside me…like a burning fire in the back of my throat…but it doesn’t… burn. It just flickers in me and I feel like it could eat me. It used to scare me. (Reaches for another slice of bread, and starts to spread jam on it.)
I used to think that it really was something inside me and one day I’d wake up and a part of me would be hollowed out by it…but, that never happened. I think though…that, it’s something even more real than that. It can’t eat me (laughs a little), but it’s bigger than that, it’s much more…”

J: “…That’s my knife.”
L: “It’s mine now. Easy. All I had to do was pick it up, and now it’s mine. Think about it.”
J: “Uhh..huh.”
L: “I’ve never thought about leaving this place. I mean, I have..but imagine…how easy it would be for me to just, lean over the edge a little too far…fall asleep and roll over, wake up falling, or even…I could just step off this place. Just like that. Easy. One step more and I’m falling. Whoosh. Just like that and I’d be gone. Quicker than any sailboat. Think about it.”
J: “I’m thinking. I’ve thought about it. How come you’ve never done it then?”
L: “I like watching the waves, listening to them.”
J: “I’m sure you could hear them from wherever you end up.”
L: “How come you’ve never done it?”
J: “I don’t know, I’ve thought about it, I guess. There’s a part of me, I think, that’s just defying it because it seems so easy. Too easy…I like a challenge. Maybe, I’m scared, of letting go. Or of leaving this place, or being somewhere I don’t know. It’s different than just talking about it…like you and I do. It’s different than talking about far off places that we could go to. (Puts his hand on the edge of the ledge, the white stucco is smooth under his hand.) It’s much more real. Who knows…”

L: “Are these strawberries from your uncle’s?”
J: “I suppose so. I don’t know where else we get our strawberries from. Freshly picked, jarred, sugared, boiled and jammed. Specially for you.”
L: “They’re my favorite.”
J: “You’ve never had any other strawberries.”
L: “Still.”

*          *

L: “I thought I dreamt you up, and that everything here was a dream. I…must’ve been really drunk then…maybe we’ll walk instead. Right across the water, go wherever we want to go, following our hearts…we’ll follow the sun.”
J: “Or the wind.”
L: “Or the wind.”
J: (sighing) “Imagine…?”
L: “It’d be so easy to forget about myself out there. Nothing to remind me of what we’re doing, where we are, who…we are. I could lose ‘me’ without a care in the world.”
J: “I feel like you do that, often enough, just sitting up here.”
L: “Well…yeah, I do…but it’s different. I’ll really be lost without an idea of where to begin to look for myself. Doesn’t that just give you the chills…? That feeling…it’s, utterly…thrilling to me. You know… like…it feels like splinters of ice splitting me open, right from my insides out…when I’m absolutely lost and my mind’s forgotten myself. When I don’t even remember that I ‘am’…”
J: “…Splinters of ice…Aren’t you scared? Doesn’t it ever frighten you how lost you can be? I mean, I guess…Yeah, maybe it’s exciting, I admit, that’s true. It frees you infinitely…but when I think about it, I get afraid, that if I cross that line and I forget myself, past the point of return, then I’m really, just…gone. And..I’ll just never be able to get myself back…”

L: “As long as somebody remembers you, who you are, they’ll hold onto ‘you’ for you. Come back to them, and you’ll find yourself again. Just don’t lose them.”
J: “So you’re going to rely, entirely, on someone else, to keep your existence intact?”
L: “…But think about it. It’s kind of like falling asleep…but being so deep asleep that you can’t remember that you’re sleeping. And no one can wake you up. You don’t remember what being awake feels like, all you know, is this feeling that’s consuming you entirely. It swallows you whole and sinks you down into its depths. I know… you know what I’m talking about. You do it all the time. When you’re sleeping, it’s impossible to wake you up. You’re absolutely lost in the unconscious world and you don’t remember anything else. You don’t know, anything, else. No amount of pushing or shoving will kick you awake…it’s just like that. That’s the kind of lost you get, when you totally forget yourself. The only difference is that you’re conscious.”

J: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
L: “Yeah, you do.”
J: “…Okay, maybe. I mean, I get it. But it still scares me a little. We’re not all like you.”
L: “What’s that supposed to mean?”
J: “I don’t, know… (Beat)…something.”
L: “Well, that’s wonderfully eloquent of you.”
J: “Yeah well…yeah.”
L: “Uhhh huh.”
J: “…Two years ago…”
L: (Tilts her head) “Mmm…?”
J: (shrugs)
L: “…(Beat.) Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re awake or I’m just talking to you all day but you’re actually just sleeping the entire time. Your sleep-talking sounds not much different from this, except when you’re sleep-talking, you’d roll over after you mumble something.”
J: “Shut up.”
L: “…Okay.”
Silence ensues.
J: “You don’t actually have to…shut up.”
L: “…Okay.”
J: “I had a dream…a little while ago, actually, it was probably last night…when I drowsed off.”
L: “Yeah?”
J: “I forgot.”

L: “You’re hopeless.”

* * *

The sun is lower, nearing the horizon. The sky has darkened to a deeper blue, but nowhere near black. The ocean, reflecting the atmosphere, is dyed a shimmering yellow with hints of “sunset”, orange and red. The same ledge now is basked in the colors, darker, holding a different kind of emotion.
J: “You’re beautiful in the way you stand. The way you look at me, is, something special…”
He stands by the archway, looking out towards the ocean. There is a figure standing close to the ledge, but against the sky, it is just a dark silhouette.
J: “I don’t think you understand…and I, I just, don’t understand why you’re doing this…Why did you leave me? …I felt so, helpless, and, forgotten. Have you ever felt that way? So…absolutely, alone.”
Silence.
J: (sighs with frustration.) “You left me, and those were the worst days… I couldn’t understand why you did it. I thought I’d lose my mind here, up here, alone, wondering if something would change your mind, or you wouldn’t like it and decide you’d want to come back…but I had no idea, none, if you’d ever come back. And I had to live with that, weighing down on me. I couldn’t sleep…and I just stared out at the waves for hours straight, more than you do now. I didn’t want to miss a thing, not a shadow, not a single thing, because I didn’t want to miss you just in case you came back, so I was afraid to sleep…Every sunrise, reminded me of you.”
The figure turns slightly, towards his voice.
J: “I thought the waves would make me understand, but they just made me furious. They hurt me because they didn’t seem to care, they just came and went, like they always do, expressionless…I wanted to scream but they swallowed up my voice… I thought they’d bring you back…”
The figure sighs, turns back towards the ocean.
“Push me.”
J: “(clearly in anguish)…No!..Why? Why…I, I just, you…I just need you to…, stay.”
The shadow walks towards him, reaches for his hand and pulls him towards the edge.
“Look, look at the waves.”
J: (almost angrily) “I can’t. I don’t want to. Why?”
“Because. As long as they are, I am.”
J: “Bullshit. Fucking bull, shit. Don’t pull that on me, don’t tell me to understand your words. I get it, I understand every single word you say to me, don’t think I don’t, but they’re not merely enough to explain yourself. You think, I don’t know? It’s not just you. But it’s just you, that makes me feel this way, and I can’t take it.”
“Push me.”
J: “No.”
The shadow leans dangerously close, almost over the ledge. Peering over. It is dark on the other side, only the ocean and the sky are lit.
J: (whispering) “No. Stop.”
“I’m sorry.”
The shadow stands, toes over the edge, and then falls, hand still holding his.

* * *

A softly lit room. An open archway lets in a gentle ocean breeze. J sits on the bed in the middle of the room, feet on the floor, looking out. A shadow falls across the floor. He focuses, and sees L standing at the doorway, peering in.
L: “Mornin’.”
J: “Hey.”
L: “Coffee?”
J: “Thanks. (Beat.) What if I said I didn’t want any, would you have had both cups?”
L: “I guess I would have had to…I like coffee, I wouldn’t have minded…I guess, it would’ve gone cold though. But I mean, you like coffee.”
J: “Well yeah, just hypothetically. (Taking a sip of his) Maybe I wasn’t in the mood for it. Who knows? What would you have done?”
L: (Beat.) “Hey…you, okay?”
J: “…Yeah.”
L: “…Well, okay.”
She turns, and makes a move to go stand out on the balcony.
J: “Wait. Hey…, wait.”
L: “Hmm? What?”
J: “…Don’t…go.”

L momentarily pauses, as if about to ask a question, but then turns around and sits next to him on the bed. She puts an arm around him, holding him by the waist. He leans into her and after a moment, laughs.
J: “I don’t know…sorry, I don’t know what that was. I’ll be out in a bit.”
L: (Shaking her head a little) “…Okay.”
She stands up, gives him a light kiss on the forehead and walks out.

*                               *

On the balcony. The ledge is higher here, and L stands, leaning out, her head resting on the backs of her hands.

J: “How are you?”
L: “Fine, I guess.”
J: “Just fine?”
L: “Nothing wrong with just fine. But I’m feeling a little nostalgic, maybe.”
J: “Huh.”
L: “Yeah, I was just thinking back to those days…”
J: “Don ‘t do it.”
L: “…When we used to know so much more…”
J: “Stop. Forget it.”
L: (Shuddering, as if shaking off chills) “Sorry, I don’t know what it is about this morning…maybe, it’s something in the air.”
J: “You know, maybe it’s not something in the air. Maybe it’s you. (In a slightly accusatory tone.)”
L: “(Beat.) Maybe.”
J: “I wish you’d deny things once in a while. Just tell me, no. Tell me it’s stupid, that I’m stupid, that it’s not you and that it must be something in the air. Why don’t you ever…?”
L: “Because I don’t know! I don’t know for sure it’s not me, maybe it is me. I can’t lie to you. I won’t do it. So, maybe, it is me and that’s all I can tell you.”
J: (sighing) “It’s not you. I wish it was, but this time, at least, it’s not you. It’s not just you. Something’s making me remember things too.”
L: “You can let go…”
J: “No, I can’t. It’s not like I have a choice.”
L: “I don’t think it’s like that. It’s a lot simpler than that.”
J: “I just can’t, not yet. It’s not right.”
L: “But it’s not wrong.”
J: “…(Beat.) I’ll go get breakfast ready.”
L: “Okay.”
J: “I know it’s not wrong. But you can’t help but remember and feel nostalgia. It’s the same thing. We used to know more, that’s all.”
L: “I know. (Beat.) I’m hungry.”
J turns to leave.

L: “But is it wrong? To want to remember what I lost? I want to know what I used to know. Now at night, all I know is the feeling I used to have, looking out and wondering why it is that I feel this way. Like a part of me is missing, like someone just left me. Who is it that makes me feel so volatile and unsure of myself, like my trust could be betrayed at any moment and my heart could shatter within seconds? Why am I only left with the feeling, and nothing else?”
J: “I wish…. I wish I knew.”
He leaves.

* * *

At a small dining table, the two are seated across from each other. Eating breakfast.

L: “Still my favorite strawberries.”
J: “You’ll never get sick of them, will you?”
L: “I doubt it. Watching the waves and tasting it, it’s almost a kind of escape.”
J: “It sounds crazy, but I believe you. It makes sense, almost.”
L laughs, licks her lips of strawberry jam.
L: “…(Beat.) Last night, I couldn’t fall asleep, and I was trying to figure out why, just sitting in my bed. And I finally remembered it was because the last two nights, I’d been having dreams, and you know, I never have dreams, or I just never remember them- because apparently everyone has dreams, but anyways, I’d been having the same sort of dream for two nights. I can’t remember exactly what they were about, but I can remember the feeling. One of them, was of me falling. It was strange, because I felt miserably wretched and freed at the same time. Just falling.”
J: “What was the other one?”
L: “The other one…was me sitting on my bed. But I was waiting for you to come back, because you said you’d be back later in the night, and I was staying up to wait for you. And I usually fall asleep pretty easily, as easily as I wake up, but I was so determined on waiting up for you, I guess I just really wanted to see you, I was missing your…I don’t even know, I just felt like I hadn’t seen you in a really long time… but I didn’t even know where you’d gone. Eventually, it was getting closer to dawn…than midnight, and you weren’t back yet, and I didn’t know what to do…I guess I could have gone to sleep, but I couldn’t… because I had this feeling in my stomach.
            It was almost similar, you know, to the feeling of falling, but just inside me…But, those were my two dreams…and I couldn’t go to sleep last night because I didn’t want to feel either. So I sat there on my bed, but it was so late at night, and I felt like I was reliving my dream and I forgot I wasn’t dreaming, so I thought you wouldn’t come back and that thought started to grow in my mind and I was hurt. Because I thought you were gone. And when I get like that, I start feeling sick in my stomach…sometimes it’s just because it’s late at night, sometimes it’s because I have a bad feeling about something, sometimes, I just don’t know. But I would have kept looking out the window to look for you or something if I didn’t think that was crazy. (laughs) So I don’t know, I was hurting last night, all because of some dreams. How, stupid, childish, unreasonable…of me, I’m just like a frightened child, vulnerable and volatile.”
J: “In your dream, did I come back?”
L: “I don’t know, I don’t know if I even dreamt to that part, all I remember is the feeling of falling and hurting, because you were gone.”
J: “You know I’d come back for you.”
L: “Well I don’t know that, actually, and certainly in the dream, I didn’t think you would. I’m so stupid; I think I actually started crying. But then again, I don’t remember what was my dream and what was real.”
J: “You were crying?”
L: “…Yeah.”
J: (sighing) “I wish you hadn’t.”
L: “Too late. Stupid dreams.”
J: “Why were you falling?”
L: “I don’t know…don’t remember. Gravity? (Rolls her eyes.) Or maybe it wasn’t.”
J: “You’re talking so much; your coffee’s going to get cold.”
L cups her coffee in her hands and sips, stops talking for a while. Breakfast continues.

L: “Eventually, I didn’t want to stay up until dawn, and I got tired, so I fell asleep.”
J: “…You weren’t dreaming.”
L: “What?”
J: “I mean, you, crying. You weren’t dreaming. Look, you have tearstains on your cheeks.”
L: “…Oh.”
J: “…You’re okay.”
L: “Yeah…I know, it’s just, it’s just that I feel like I’m falling apart. Like I’m falling apart at the seams, and I’m going to be fragments of myself, before I know it. And there’ll be nothing to stop me. Something inside me, it’s going to burst, shatter, I can’t even find the word for the feeling I have, and it’s like a spinning ball of energy and frustration and nervousness, and it makes me think that if it ever did explode, there’d be pieces of shrapnel, pieces of my mind flying everywhere. I feel like my thoughts are twitching from anxiety, or like my nerves are hiccupping. I don’t understand why. It’s not always like this, and it scares me. And I, I wish it didn’t happen.”
J: “Breathe.”
L: “And I don’t understand. I can’t tell which is which, I can’t tell if I look at you and I feel this way, or if I feel this way and I look at you and something’s a little off. Something in your eyes. Maybe I’m losing it, but I look at you, and I feel like you’re hiding something. Omitting the truth, that’s still lying, isn’t it? Or maybe it’s not, but, I feel like, it’s what you’re doing. It’s that sort of paranoia that eats me from the inside, and I don’t know where it came from. I never used to know what paranoia felt like. I always, always, knew what I was doing, never had to worry about second glances or feeling doubt. What, is doubt, anyways? It’s like self-mockery.”
J:  “You’re thinking too much, that’s what.”
L: “Or it’s like self-deception. Maybe I’m lying to myself continuously, but subconsciously. Is that what it is? My own perception could be flawed, absolutely flawed, so much, in a way, that what I think is reality is a disillusioned version of what’s actually happening…and I wouldn’t know. I feel like…I’m breaking. You should leave me, alone. I don’t know what’s come over me. You know, this isn’t me. Or maybe it is. (Laughs) I sound completely deranged, insane.
Why would I ever doubt you? Why would I ever think you were lying, or hiding something because I think there’s something different about the way your eyes are? (Sighing) I need to leave. I keep telling you, I need to go, and I mean leave, as in, leave. Not, let’s go somewhere, explore. I don’t think you should come with me…I’ll drive you crazy too.”
She says this all in slightly quickened speech, but her voice remains airy, dreamy, like usual. The only other noticeable difference is a sense of urgency, a cry for help, somewhere underneath it all.
J: “This is you. But you’re not going anywhere alone. (Clearly agitated) You can’t, why, why do I feel like this has happened before? All of this. I feel like I’m reliving some dream, or nightmare, I don’t know…You can’t just up and leave, you know, that’s not how things work. What am I supposed to do…forget, about, you? Ridiculous.”
L: “Forget about me. Pretend I never existed…Pretend enough and things start becoming real, act like you’re a liar and eventually you’ll become one, because think about it, pretending to be a liar, you’ll be lying, and then eventually you won’t be able to help yourself. You wouldn’t be able to discern which ones are real lies and which ones are pretend…soon, you’ll be so lost in who you’ve pretended to become that you’ll lose yourself in it. And then…that’ll become you. Just like that. Easy. Pretend I was never here. Move on. You’ll start believing it after a while, and I’ll be gone from your mind. Clean.”
J: “…Clean?”
L: “Yeah. Clean.”
J: “I mean, that’s not what I was asking. I wasn’t asking anything, I mean…I, ridiculous. What are you thinking?”
L: “Me? Nothing.”
J: “Nothing…” Falls quiet.
L: “I don’t think you’re lying about anything…Or hiding anything. It’s just me, eating away at myself, my mind is so…, proud…It doesn’t even trust me…and it won’t even tell me the truth. I feel like it’s pushing me, testing me, trying to break me so that one day, I will…and everything…you’ll take one look at me and think that I’m broken. Like one day, somebody came, and stole my heart from me. Empty. People will look at me and be afraid, of becoming like me…”
J: “Do you hear yourself? Are you, listening…to the words you’re saying?”
L: “I sound like I’m slipping, right? Losing my sanity…this is the first step. (Laughs softly)”
J: “Well, yeah, fuck. This is almost, hurting… me…and I don’t know how that’s possible.”
L: “… (Beat.)…What if I told you, all that was, a lie, a story I fabricated? That I was actually kidding, and this was all an act. Maybe a desperate call for attention, a terrible joke…me practicing my acting, or even doing the thing where I pretend to become something else so that I’m wholly consumed in it. Experimenting with the whole, ‘losing yourself’, thing. Would you believe me?”
J: “I, don’t know what to think…”
L: “I’m sorry…maybe, I was kidding. Just trying out my thoughts…don’t worry about it. I’m not going crazy. I promise.”
J: “You know you keep doing this. You’re trying out all your thoughts on me, and I feel like I’m going to lose it…I hope that’s not your ultimate goal…now, that’d be horrible- If this was all a play to see how far you could push me.”
L: “Like I said, if it were, I would lose myself in the process and become insane, right along with you. I hope, I hope, that I know better than that.”
J: “I wish you knew for sure.”
L: “…Oh, we’ve… let the sun go down.”
J: “You’re kidding…there’s no way, I, we were eating…breakfast.”
L: “It’s like that.., you know that feeling? When you blink, but you blink a little differently than normal I guess, and that instant when you open your eyes from the blink, it feels like you’ve just turned on the light or something? Like your blink, just turned the lights off and on…if you don’t watch the sun, it’ll just get blinked away.”
J: Shaking his head, “Nonsense, crazy talk, don’t fuck with my mind anymore.”
L: “Please. I would do no such thing! I don’t have that ability…Only you do.” Putting a finger to his chest.
J: “Stop.”
L: “I’m leaving.”
J: “…Where?”
L: “Relax, I’m going…for a walk, I want to see the ocean.”
J: “You can see it from here, look.”
L: “I know I can see it from here, for god’s sake, this is where I look at it from all the fucking time…but I want to see it, from a different place.”
J: “Okay. You’re coming back though, right?”
L: “Listen to yourself, getting all paranoid. You’ve got nothing to be afraid of. You don’t have dreams of falling, and you never feel like you’re going to explode at the seams. You’re not the one losing your mind. You, my dear, have nothing to worry about.”
She punches him, playfully on the arm. Winks, and walks out. Gone.
J: “The fog’s rolling in…”

* * *

A fog lies underneath the sky, lingering close to the ground, submerging the near horizon into darkness. It hugs the coast, muffling the sounds of the waves. The moon is nowhere to be seen, but some stars dot the sky, twinkling feebly like tired lanterns far away. The white stone glows warmly, as if they’re emitting their own light. The light comes from the entire cliff, almost as if it’s pulsing. This is the first time leaving the house on the ledge. A shadow dances past, accompanied by whistling. The shadow comes from a figure, but the fog hugs it close and the face can’t be made out. The shadow goes down some steps, and turns a corner. It disappears. The fog sinks down, the sky and ground meet. The whistling fades.

* * *

The same room as before, with the dining table. The room is lit from within. Looking into the room this time, from the outside, from the side of the doorway. J is sitting with his back to the doorway, sitting across from a figure, unseen. His legs are crossed, he is leaning back into his chair, but he is tapping his fingers, strumming them on the table.

J: “…You know, sometimes, I don’t even want to see her, and talking to her is, way, too much. I don’t know how…to handle it. I feel like, she’s slowly breaking me, and ‘breaking’ sounds so stupid, because how does someone even, break, a person…? …Sometimes, I’m afraid for her, but other times…I’m just afraid for myself. She must know…what she’s doing, she’s not clueless, but I mean,…the things she says- you should hear her…I can’t tell if she’s playing games with me, if it’s all a pretense and she’s, in reality, not so…intense, and she’s just seeing how far she can take it with me, or if this is really who she is.”
X: “But you know her…better than anyone else…I mean, we all know, she’s always been a little different. She thinks about things, you know, or at least, she feels things that nobody else really cares about, call her crazy, maybe, but she’s onto something, I think.”
J: “Yeah, well, it’s going to get to me soon. Recently, I feel like I’m having dreams that I can’t remember, but somehow they’re affecting my very own thoughts, the things I do, the things I say…Jesus, I sound like I’m losing it already, don’t I? I don’t know what it is, but what I’m saying is that…I’m remembering things from the past and at times, I can’t tell if something’s really from my own memories, my own past…or a dream I had before. Do you, do… you, understand how vulnerable I feel? Sometimes I just sit for a while, sifting through my memories, and try to remember if something actually happened or if it’s just a figment of my imagination- it’s the most confusing and helpless feeling…losing control of your own mind.”
X: “…Well, I, can’t say that’s happened to me, but I think I understand what you’re trying to say. Or at least the idea of it. It sounds crazy for sure though…your own mind’s tampering with itself. Call that insanity. Oh. Hey, I take that back, don’t look at me like that. You’re good, you’re not going crazy, I assure you. Come on, snap out of it. Hey, what are these things anyways?”
J: “What, the strawberries?”
X: “No…I know what strawberries are. I meant, these things on the table. It’s like melded into the wood or something.”
J: “Oh. Those. She plays with candles…just holds them up, tilts them and then just watches the flame, and she lets the wax just drip, right onto the table. She’s just so fascinated by it. Things just catch her attention and hold it, fascinates her, things no one else would be patient enough for. And those, are just, what the wax does when it hits the table. She says it’s like art…I don’t really know though.”
X: “You know…maybe she sees something in you that you don’t think you’re showing? Maybe…you’re the one, driving her crazy, you’re the one pushing her to her edge…”
J: “What do you mean…?”
X: “I don’t know, maybe, she feels something and it’s making her…do whatever, say whatever.”
J: “This is ridiculous. Are you serious right now? I wouldn’t ever want to hurt her. If she feels like she’s falling, all I’d want to do is catch her, make sure she lands unhurt. Me? Driving her crazy? She’s the one with all the thoughts. I couldn’t…ever.”

X: “…All right, it was just, a thought, okay? I’m not accusing you of anything. I just don’t want this entire thing to turn into a prophetic idea, that’s all.”
J: “Prophetic?”
X: “Never mind. Hey, don’t let that candle go out. The fog’s rolling in tonight.”

* * *

J stands by the ledge, it is a little before twilight. A figure stands about 15ft away, near the balcony.
-: “Maybe I had reasons. Maybe I was right in leaving. I think I was trying so hard to believe in you, I believed hard enough…so much, that it came true, you know, and I…I just don’t  understand. I’ve given you my truth, so that you wouldn’t have to hide yours…but now I’m really learning that it’s completely possible that you are…just who you are. And that, involves, some things that would destroy me….Who knew? Who knew, that one person was capable of so much…of changing me so much.
…I never thought I’d be stupid enough to fall for it again, but… I, did it so well, and I fooled myself brilliantly too, to cover it up. I completely deceived myself, convinced myself that I had nothing to worry about, that we could all hold onto the words we said and claim it as honesty…I, I can’t believe, that I was smart enough to cover up and lie to myself about the truth…that I already knew. I outsmarted myself, tricked my mind. Doubts? I might call bullshit, but I just…, know. Does this scare you? How much I knew, without knowing it consciously yet, and now you know that I had ‘known’ all along…I just, wish, you knew, how much this is tearing me apart. 
I feel like every breath that I breathe, is shaking my lungs, making them shudder…just like when you pull in for a big sob…but I don’t have any tears, in me. Some things, you just can’t dismiss. You can’t just forget about it.
To think that I really believed you, trusted your words and actions as the truth…and that there was nothing more. The way you look at me, I can tell…it’s something in your eyes. There’s something a little off, and I sometimes think it’s my imagination, my paranoia, but that’s not it. All I’m seeing is the truth…the things you’re not telling me…I’m starting to doubt everything. I don’t know what promises are anymore.”
J: “I don’t understand.”
-: “Don’t tell me, that. Don’t tell me you’re not understanding every word that I say. You do. You know…you know. And it kills me, that I’m not worth the truth. All the things we used to know, the amount of myself that I have given you, everything that I shouldn’t have done…I don’t know why…I’ve become so fond of all of these things…all of these things that I should forget about. I could forget about everything and I would be left with…the things I should have. All of the things I should let go of…I should really do it.”
J: “…”
-: “You can keep at it, you can keep being yourself, but I need to leave. I’m going to start having dreams. (Laughs) Or nightmares, whatever you call them…Isn’t it crazy? I feel like my dreams are merging with my nightmares. All the things that I’ve seen, inside people’s eyes, the emotion that I can feel from them…they’re eating me alive…because it’s the truth. And the idea… that so much truth is left hidden in the eyes…and so few people actually speak of it, and that so few people actually want to know it…that’s the thing that kills me.”
J: “You think…I’m hiding the truth from you? Come on, you know…that I don’t want to hurt you in any way…you’re not actually leaving. Let’s be real…there’s nowhere to go.”
-: “You’re wrong. Up. I can go up. Away. From you.”
J: “You can’t get much higher than here…you’d have better luck sailing the ocean, trust me.”
-: “Why should I ever trust you…anymore…? I should have known. Should’ve known better…”
J: “I can’t…let you go. I can’t, lose you, not anymore.”
-: “Lie to me, one, more, time. I dare you. If you could feel the way my insides are feeling right now, I feel like I accidentally swallowed fire and decided it would be a good idea to put it out with sharp pieces of ice.”
J: “You don’t know what you’re saying, you’re losing it. Please, you can’t actually leave. I’ll go crazy, stare at the ocean all day or something.”
The figure slowly walks over, closer to the ledge.
-: “It’s not you…there’s nothing wrong with you. It’s truth. That’s all it is.”

* * *

J has fallen asleep at the table. It is night. The candle burns slowly. A cry of a seagull, and he stirs. He awakes, and walks over to the other room.
L is sleeping in the bed.
J: “Oh good, you’re home, from your walk… you’re still here…, good.”
He sits on the side of the bed, watching her sleep for a moment. Then he goes back to the table. He stares at the wax, melded into the table.
 

* *

Voice: “Push me.”

*****

Dawn, the fog has thinned out but the damp cold air still remains in the atmosphere. It is chilly.
J is walking down the cliff, down the white stone steps and onto lower and lower ledges. He is down here, to listen to the waves closer, for the first time. He is trembling, in fear, and in anticipation. The ocean grows louder; he can hear the waves crashing onto rocks…gentle and formidable at the same time. Relentless.
His breath is slightly white. He walks down, his hands tracing the wall. A cry of a seagull.
His foot slips and he grabs on the nearby rock. His breathing becomes rapid for a moment. Then he pauses. His movements suddenly halt.
His eyes grow wider. He is at the sand. The ocean is lapping at the high tide line. A mass of small white birds are playing in the waves. Running, fast, running with the foams of the waves. They almost look like the foams themselves, playing a game of tag with the ocean.
The waves crash higher.
J breathes, but abruptly, his breath catches.
On the sand, a figure. Lying sideways, a little out of reach from the waves, except for the big ones. J steps closer, slowly. His breathing is hushed. His feet leave prints in the sand. The sand is cold. He is standing right by the figure now. He shakes his head, frightened of what he is seeing.
The figure, has wings. The wings are almost one with the figure, as if it is coming out of its back. But a closer look shows that it is secured with wax. The wings are intricate, like a work of art. They are so real to nature, he almost disbelieves his eyes. J walks around, shaking; he does and does not want to see the face of this winged creature.
She is lifeless. A faint smile on her face, but she has small tearstains on her cheek, it could be salt-marks from the waves.
His eyes show a weak sense of resignation and pain at the recognition of the face.
The ocean laps at his feet. The sun is rising, turning it into a sheet of brilliance. He shields his eyes. He is crying.

* * *

The candle in the house goes out.

12/4/2011