Rehearsal

Ace Melee: I rarely do pieces with just dialogue, creating small poetry, but I want to create a fictional story with it. To make it easier to see who was talking, I put it in separate stanzas and changed the word styles.

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“Smile.”

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“We haven’t left yet,

and it’s hard to smile under panic.

You have to stitch it up

to keep it together.”

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“Girl, have you lost your skill at faking?

No one wants to know about your personal state.”

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“This is a bathroom–

a layer of privacy,

let my brain have a breakdown in peace.”

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“Ugh… What are you girls doing in here?”

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“The layer of privacy is full of lies,

even in the shower.

It’s only a matter of time

before you see heads popping out of the toilet.

add cameras–

nothing more than a trick of vision.”

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“You’re not helping.”

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“What have you been doing in there?”

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“Watching Giselle get ready to go to a play.”

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“Nice. What role do you do?”

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“A subconscious audience.”

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“She’s doing a good job.”

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“Hey, public spaces are rougher

than grinding your arm on sandpaper.”

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“Dramatic.”

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“Blame Anxiety!”

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“Nah, blame yourself,

your mind invited us in,

causing it to be shared and split.”

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“Like a spirit from an Ouija board?

I find them easier to remove

than the beings I created

in my head.

Now, shoo!”

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“Aside from the trauma they gave you–

that never goes away quickly.

I'm here forever.”

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“You’ve done this before–

I told you this a million times,

like there’s no secret,

you’re gonna be okay.”

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"Not Grit..."

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“You forgot to close the door.”

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“Every door opens when you are in this state.

You wish for them to be closed;

however, your disarray

sent your thoughts from different cultural mindsets

into anarchy.

Thanks a lot.”

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“Ha! Briefly!”

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“Define brief as hours!

How many times do I need to get used to the feeling

of being watched

before I’m convinced you all are ghosts of time,

reminiscing my old days without you– bliss,

visiting visions every day to see what I’m missing;

I’m too of a scribble to leave,

and the future in abstract,

lost in the colors despite a black-and-white scheme.

And yet, it’s my fault

for letting you guys grow stronger each day

while I try my best to push through.

I fear the ‘I’m going to be all right’ belief will fade.”

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“Told ya, she is great for her role,

doing last-minute rehearsals.

She’ll nail it

as if she is on stage.

She’s doing so well that she might collapse

onto the floor.”

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“Come hither, leave the bathroom.

I’m still here after many years

when your mental adversities first emerged.

You will get through this

and leave ten times better.

Fight your fear and thoughts of your

inner ridicule and ablation.

You can save yourself

and live for your life.

We must leave; we got a play to catch.”

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“...Dang it. She’s leaving.

Does she know we can follow her?

We should’ve invited Randomness…”

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“No! No-no! No! That girl is so out of touch

that she can’t read the room

to save her life.

We also can’t invite her;

she prefers to crash uninvited,

not coming in an already free-for-all,

even though she might save Giselle

from you.”

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“She is probably going to show up

when Giselle is at the play,

and cause her to laugh at something else

around the same time when an actor falls off a ladder

and breaks his shoulder.”

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“Oh, God! You’re terrible.”

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“Why didn’t Digestion come along?

She arrives when I’m here.”

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“She’s too starved to go off.

Unlike you, she does try to garner some sympathy.”

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“You yell at Giselle whenever she panics,

telling her she’s been down this road before

to get her to settle down,

stopping this hysteria party, only to crank it up,

and Grit does it more reasonably and efficiently.

He's the true party pooper;

you’re the party escalator without realizing.”

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“Giselle is at the front of the stage,

not the back,

so if she shows panic,

she’ll believe everyone will gawk at her.

Mostly, they don’t care,

probably going to be angry at her

for being too noisy,

like I am whenever she freaks out

because of you.”

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“This little fiasco is fleeting

as the play is coming to an end.

We have to leave

and will come back eventually.

Could be hours, tomorrow, or days.

Our lifetime doesn’t disappear overnight

or by a simple hug.

Giselle comes to terms with it.”

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“Out of us, you are the most nuisance.

I hate how I need to deal with her and you.”

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“Did Giselle just tripped on a step?!

Looks like the ‘stairs to Heaven’

might be too slippery.”

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“It’s carpeted, Randomness.

She probably hit the edge,

like any normal person

once in a while.”

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“Come on. Recompose.

Don't give Anxiety any satisfaction

of you plummeting from the ground

for a simple step.”

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‘At least I have something to panic about

other than letting it brew inside

and last.

Got some good laughs,

but I’m okay.

Got me to laugh too,

and enjoy a real smile.”