A Study on Character Development

This is a poem I wrote and made it into a screenplay. Due to being completely broke budget restrictions and the lack of a male British voice to narrate it, I’ve made it a text and music short.

One day, it will have actors and all those pretty things they do with cameras and fancy editing software.

‘A Study on Character Development’

I was hers.
She thought me.
She made me.
One given day, drinking her third cup of coffee, she created me.
A spark. An idea.
She rushed to her computer and started to write.
She gave me a name, a body, and filled me with everything that came up in her mind.
She made me. She made me hers. I lived to do her bidding.
She made me walk. She made me run.
She put her foot forward and watched me fall.
I walked for her some more. Ran for her some more.
One time she even made me crawl. Out of harm’s way, of course.
I sat at the table for her.
I drank tea, coffee, wine, whiskey, water, for her.
She changed my clothes. She changed my hair.
She made me jump.
She thought me at her computer. She thought me in the shower.
We talked, and laughed, and talked some more.
She made me smile, she made me wink, she made me cry, she made me speak.
She pushed me down. She lifted me.
She dragged me around the room and kissed my cheeks.
She gave me a gun and a reason to use it.
She gave me motives to breathe and motives to want to die.
I went wherever she went.
I stood behind her, I stood in front of her, I stood beside her, and took her hand.
We read books together.
We watched movies together.
We argued, got into fights.
She shouted when I shouted. She cried when I cried.
She laughed with me. She laughed because of me.
She smiled when I smiled.
I ate for her.
I jumped for her.
I took off my shoes for her and put them on again.
I slid my jacket off my arms and pulled it back again.
I cocked my eyebrow for her.
I shaved for her.
I was happy for her. I was angry for her.
She changed my clothes. She changed my hair.
We ate together. We drank together. We bathed together.
She took my hand.
She kissed my lips.
We talked some more.
We made love.
She hated me. I hated her.
She loved me. I loved her.
She made up my words. I lived in her words.
She made up my world. I lived in her world.
She reached out and touched me when she was scared.
Ran into my arms bursting with joy when all was well.
She made me. She made me hers.
She thought me over and over again.
She changed my clothes. She changed my hair.
Made me walk, smile, trip, drink, love, cry, love, cry, wink, kiss, hate, jump, shout, kill, sit, dream, run, speak, stand, breathe, crawl, eat, sleep, live for her.
Moved me. Froze me. Made me walk in her wake.
She shoved me. She punched me. She hugged me.
She whispered things into my ear.
We watched movies.
Dressed and undressed.
We laughed, we cried, we held hands.
She wrote me word by word. Filled my head with thoughts. Thoughts that were hers.
I lived and breathed through her.
And when the story was finished, when all the words were were written, when everything was said, she murdered me so I could be loved by someone else.

 

Text: (c) Astrid ‘Artistikem’ Cruz
Music: ‘The First Day Pt. 2’ by All Will Be Quiet
(no copyright infringement intended, I make no profit from this)

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