Ocean Mild – A Poem

Strange tides do quell in the currents.
The breaks go on into a swirl of tepid bubbles,
It rises. In and out and further and closer.
The changing patterns forming on shredded shells,
Painted rocks.
Never the same, as the last waves feast,
Froth writing new truths into old formed canvases.
Everything moves into the same.
Yet none are identical.
Another wave comes. 

Argument – A Script

This is a scene I wrote for a friend for his showreel. I offer show and voice reel scripts for a small fee, please email lily.portman349@gmail.com if you are interested!

Scene: We’ve entered in the middle of an argument. PERSON A  wanted to spend time with PERSON B and hoped they would be able to sort out their issues without getting mad but it hasn’t lasted long.

A is pacing behind B who has their head down busying themselves with the already clean dishes.

A: I asked you for one second of your day. And even that was too much?

B: Yes, that was too much. You’re too much. Just this, this whole thing is too much.

A: So, what, you want me to just leave? Leave you be and go home? Is that it?

B refuses to meet A’s eye and continues the dishes.

God, fucking say something.

B: I don’t….I just don’t really know what to say.

A: How about ‘I’m sorry’? Or ‘I love you’? Or, shit, even I don’t love you, anything’s better than this wall of silence you seem to think is so appropriate.

B: Then maybe you should go.

A: Maybe I should.

B: Or don’t, I don’t know.

A: How?

B: How what?

A: How can you not know? This is supposed to be something that is a yes or a no. A stay or a go, black and white, easy, done. Not maybe. It can never be maybe.

B: But it is. 

Silence. B turns to face A, arms folded in a defensive position.

B: Sometimes it’s maybe and you have to be ok with that. Everyone does it’s how shit works.

A: It’s not how I work.

B: I can’t give you a straight answer. And I know, I know that might seem unfair to you or incomprehensible but there it is. That’s all I have right now.

A: That’s not enough.

B: Then you’ve answered it for me. Haven’t you? You can’t accept that I am sometimes unsure. I don’t…I don’t have the drive you do. The perfection, that everything that ever comes out of my mouth is clear and definitive and sometimes that’s just ok. Look, I know you want to know what I make of all this but I just..I just can’t today, okay? And if that’s not okay then you have your answer because I can’t live with someone who isn’t okay with some uncertainty and I understand, alright? I get it, I don’t want to make you think, like, what the fuck, you know? But that’s how it is.

A: How can you think that anyone would ever be ok with that? How can I be with someone who is so wrapped up in their own imaginings that they can’t decide what’s real or what’s…

B: My own imaginings…

A: Yes, your own imaginings because that’s what they are, B. I’m sorry to spring that on you but it really shouldn’t be that much of a surprise that your uncertainty about the simplest questions I ask, the most straightforward and to the point and essential ones are always just I don’t know.

B stammers for words but finds none. They avert their eyes.

A is fighting back tears.

A: Do you love me?

B: I don’t know.

A: Do you like me? At all?

B: Sometimes. Not really at the moment.

A: Then I have an answer.

They go to leave.

B: No, don’t….of course I like you. I can’t pretend that, I’m just mad right now. I wouldn’t have put so much on hold for you if I didn’t like you. My brain just doesn’t work how you want it to.

A: Then we aren’t right for eachother. We never have been.

B: Don’t say shit like that, A. You know that’s not true, you wouldn’t still be here if you thought it was. You can’t just give up on me like that.

A turns to B, aggressively.

A: Oh I can’t give up on you? That is so unfair. Have you forgotten how many days I’ve held your hand through? When even the tiny shit seemed impossible to you and everyone else had run because you were acting like an ass? Having issues does not give you the right to use someone like that. You can’t replace an actual therapist for me, I won’t fucking do it. I’m exhausted and drained and you act like, just because you need this help gives you the right to control me. And everything I do. I am not your seeing eye dog

B: Oh that’s rich coming from you. How the fuck do you think I feel when you hold everything I do into account? That everyone you meet has to be perfect or get out of the way before they get run down by your utter compulsion to have everything certain and in a certain way…

A: That’s not fair…

B: Isn’t it? You drive people and push and push and push and god forbid they push back because they’ll find out just how manipulative and self-centred you’ve been right up until that point but they have their back to the cliff now. You drive me fucking insane.

Silence. B stares, furious but A has shrunk down.

A: All I wanted from you was to know whether this was…

B: What I wanted, right? Oh yes yes, everything is so much clearer now. Thank you thank you, A. You’ve become so fucking ugly through and through nowadays I don‘t know what I ever saw in you in the first place. You are mean and pushy and I don’t understand how you have any friends and I wish you’d just fuck off.

B shoves A. They look at each other. Both shocked about the stream that has come out of B, knowing they are both hurting and saying and doing the wrong things.

B: I…I’m sorry I didn’t mean…

A: I know.

Silence. B reaches for As hand.

B: D’you…are we going to be able to get through this?

A’s tear stained face frowns at Bs face, searching for answers.

A: I don’t know.