Words (drama peice)

Eleanor: Why did I do it? Why not? Do I have to have a reason to do anything? Why can't something just be undefined? Does there always have to be a reason? Haven’t you ever just felt like doing something insane… for no reason at all? (Pause) Of course not ... you’ve never made a mistake in your life, have you? It makes you so mad doesn’t it? That people like me, who are reckless and do things for no reason, are the ones that are happy. And the ones like you, who keep to the book and find the need to define every aspect of their life, are the ones that are miserable. I mean really. What does it mean to do anything? Just because I might run out in the middle of Main Street and sing Beatle lyrics at the top of my lungs doesn’t mean that I’m insane or crazy, free spirited or fun loving.

Tessa: Why can’t you just be normal Elle?

Eleanor: Normal?! You want me to be normal? Define normal Tessa. (Pause) You can’t do it can you? Does it mean (reciting like a robot) conforming with or constituting a norm, standard, level, or type; being approximately average or within certain limits; in accordance with scientific laws. Which is it? Normal. It’s just a word. You think I’m abnormal just because I do what I feel. Well some things can’t be explained or expressed through a dictionary. Some feelings are, just, indescribable. Like your mother getting engaged not but a year after the death of your father. How would you describe that? It’s not anger: a strong feeling of displeasure and belligerence aroused by a wrong. Nor is it Sadness: the quality of excessive mournfulness and uncheerfulness. It’s something that simply can’t be put into words. It’s a feeling that rips your heart apart because she’s moving on but yet still keeps it together because she’s finally happy. (Snapping back to the conversation) You want to know why I did it? How about you ask yourself that question Tess.

Tessa: What are you talking about Elle?

Eleanor: (Blowing over her comment) well maybe I did it because (Starts listing slowly then gradually speeds up) I’m a slut, a dreamer, a wisher, a lover, an artist, a humanitarian, a comedian. Because I’m compassionate, caring, callous, heartless, benevolent, random, strange, abnormal, normal, unique, punk, Goth, prep, skater, geek, black, white, Hispanic, Asian, intelligent, intellectual, dim, dumb, elegant, graceful, clumsy, dull, interesting... I’m all of these things and so much more. But yet I’m none of these things and so much less... Some things you just can’t describe. I'm what ever you want me to be... But I live with out words. I don’t need to explain myself to you and if you’re going to make me be something that I’m not, if you’re going to make me explain my feelings or my thoughts then I’ll take away the one word that ever really meant anything to me in accordance to you. I’ll take away your definition. Sister: A girl or woman who shares a common ancestry, allegiance, character, or purpose with another. You can’t make me be something that I’m not, someone that’s full of words. And I’m not going to explain anything to you. Because anything that can possibly come out of my mouth would just be words. Meaningless, insignificant words.