this is a collection of character exploration pieces from an old lit arts class. the formatting isn't the best because i wasn't polished, not that i'm very polished now, but i don't want to change it because the authenticity of when i was younger feels nostalgic. i've grown. i'm proud of how far i've come. i'd like to show you what i was like in arts school :3
Character Exploration- Appearance
Two glasses. One, untouched, the drink held has gone stale. The other, in a nail-bitten hand whose paint was chipped beyond repair. The same hand that's periodically overcome with an urge to flip a phone to see dim numbers grow every few minutes. 8:03, 8:15, 8:45. The same hand that's damp with salt from a rosy cheek. The one that covered glossy lips, trying desperately to catch a shaky breath. A breath followed by microscopic tremors, an earthquake in a set of shoulders draped in their best red silk. A set of shoulders one would expect to be wrapped in the arms of a lover, yet, were bare. Owned by one who sat for hours, waiting for someone who they won't meet. It seems every second they spent preparing the date had gone to waste, lost to the cosmos. Concerned eyes strayed from their meals to bore into the lonely soul as if to know why they were left alone. Their whispers weren't quiet enough to be polite and they seemed defeated. Those lonely shoulders sagged and those worn hands, whose fingertips must hurt as much as the empty seat across from them, waved over the waitress that sent just as many pity-filled looks as the patrons. A third glass of red, two more flips of a screen, a few straggling stares. One more shoulder-shaking, tear-inducing sigh. They stood, threw enough cash on the table to cover their poison of choice, and let their perfectly-done hair fall apart as they ambled through the rain to escape what will become nothing more than a bad memory.
Character Exploration- Thought
It was almost tangible, the love I crave. But their wine is old, mine drained thrice, my pristine makeup stained with salt and ruined by them. I let them. I let them ignore me until I'm needed and hold me when it's convenient, I let them tell me I'm just there for fun and nothing more, I let them. I take it and hold it as close to me as I can because I love them. More than I've adored any lover or friend before, they occupy the space in my head meant for a lover who wants me just as badly as I want them. I let them. I let them own the room in my cranium that my friends say they shouldn't hold. I let them because I'm in paradise. I'm where I want to be, in their arms, sharing kisses never hollow, and I would never lie. I feel full to my bones with adoration for my lover and their unorthodox ways of showing their love. They love me just as much, it's true. They know I know they love me and they know I know it's a love so true, leaving would be foolish. I know they feel just as strongly as I do, they said so. They told me the love they give me is what I deserve, that it's pure and mine to have. And they own the unit in my head for a reason, as I'm sure I do theirs. Their rent is never paid and chores are never done but I don't mind because they thank me and smile. That crooked smile I fell in love with. That smile they give me when I'm sad. When I want to leave, they smile and drag me back to paradise.
Character Exploration- Action
Fluorescent lights did no justice to what was supposed to be a masterpiece in front of them. The brush in their worn hands was delicately dragged against the canvas too large for their liking. A color palette they couldn't help but choke up looking at. Deep red and purple taunted their hand. Bleeding glasses mimic the only thing on their mind. A door cracked open, light peeking from the edges, a hope in the darkness of a canvas so sad. They sighed, signed their signature on the corner, and threw the canvas on the floor. "Unfinished. When am I gonna finish something?" They put their head in their hands without thinking of the paint that stained their fingertips. They felt tears stinging their eyes before they could help it, but this time, they just let it happen. In the empty studio they spent so many hours in, they cried. Sobbed away the stress on their shoulders, drenched the paint on their face until it ran down their cheeks with their favorite drugstore mascara. They wiped their face and dropped the paintbrush on the table in front of them. The squeak of hinges startled them only a little as someone walked in. The voice of someone they knew pretty well rang out from just a few feet away as a dull thud followed.
