Iíve discovered what I want to
be in life, and itís the mysterious love interest in an indie film.
Yes, I wanna arrive about a third of the way in the story, all
dark looks, chain smoking, trying to hide panicked eyes with a
semi-shady back story.
I'd have really thin arms. Like
Lara Flynn Boyle thin. I
want to be mysterious.
want to be doing my own thing when the main character (who is desperate,
clueless and sculpted with impossible muscles, and tousled brown hair)
bumps into me. I want my voice to be a husky whisper tinged with whiskey
and cigarette smoke. I want
him to think Iím deeply wrapped in circumstances of my own, like
trying to get away from my abusive boyfriend, or conned into helping
someone rob a bank. I want
to look troubled, and trapped. I
want him to see me and want to help.
I want to protest, no get out of here, youíll get out of town
if you know whatís good for you.
I want him not to know whatís good for him. I want him to be driven mad with
the thought of me. I want
to get under his skin to where he'll scratch up his arms with the itch
of me. I want him to give
up everything he has just to hold me.
For the promise of loving me.
I want him to watch me when weíre in the same room, I want him
to miss me when I leave. I want him to wonder about me, what Iím doing, how can he
find me. I want him to do
everything possible to get back to me.
I want him to want me.