Stanislavski: Given Circumstances

Stanislavski: Given Circumstances

1. Who am I?

   • A typical, not-so-typical teenage girl.

2. Where am I?

   • I'm surrounded by a cacophony of memories: the photo frame of our family smiling brightly in front of the glittering sea, the wind whipping our hair as we smiled and laughed, genuinely, without a care in the world; the soft plushie on my bed, the last gift my sister gave before- before she left us all. A suitcase lays vacantly in front of me, packed with nothing but my necessities. Maybe I should take a remnant, a remnant of my past. No. I can't. It will only hold me back, trap me.

3. What am I doing?

   • I'm battling tears, my vision getting blurrier by the moment. I wipe them away before they manage to streak my cheeks. I will be strong.
   • My hands are shaking as I slide out the suitcase from under the bed. It's big and bulky, and I have a carpeted floor, so it isn't easy. But I eventually manage to pull it out. I pack it with some necessities that I have already gathered in a pile around me: some temporary snacks, a flashlight, a few bottles of water, some clean clothes, etc.

4. How am I feeling?

   • Not good, to say the least. The main emotions that consume me are guilt and the need to escape, two voices inside my head, battling until my head feels like splitting open. I ignore it. The pain won't last long anyways; I'll escape soon.
     • Guilt
       • It's not my parents' fault, no, I'm the disappointment, and me running away will never change that.
     • The need to escape
       • Freedom will be so sweet. No more side glances at me from the parents that used to smile at the mere sight of me. No more comparing me to someone who's dead, someone who'll never come back. No more thoughts about how I hardly existed to them, more than my sister, until I step one foot out of line to see all hell break loose, to watch as bruises litter my body.

5. What happened before?

   • My older sister, the glue of my family, my best friend, the best daughter, died a year ago. Since then, and till now, all hell as broken loose. When we first heard about her disappearence we were all devastated, searching day and night for her, forgetting ourselves and losing ourselves in choked cries of her name. By the time her body was found, we were already lifeless.
   • Every day turned into a nightmare. My parents were dead to me, we never talked. We had a deal, sort of, if I maintained perfect grades, kept smiling to never let others know, then they wouldn't say anything to me. Hardly acknowledge me. I managed through it, but I lost myself. It was the same, day after day. Smile for the crowd, come home to silence and hollow eyes.
   • Until one day, it was all too much. I hadn't been doing in school. I hadn't been smiling. So, when I came home with my report card, my fate wasn't a shocking one. For the first time in what I can remember, my parents acknowledged me. Spoke to me. Well, more like shouted. When the verbal abuse wasn't enough with them, their moved, slapping me. That was it. The last straw. They won't even notice I'm gone, anyways.