Press Play

“Give it back,” I snarl, hands on my hips.

“Give what back?” you smile angelically.

“The Remote, MY goddamn Remote!” I curse, forgetting that you only hear what you want to hear.
Like me.

“Why?” you say, after a bit, staring at me like you know that underneath it all, I’m empty, the same as everyone else.

Your question dumbfounds me.

“Because..” I stammer, “Because I’m sick of you controlling my life, I’m fed up with you possessing the power to ‘pause’ me then ‘play’ me, pause play pause play pauseplay…”

“Fun!” you declare brightly.

“For you,” I emphasize slowly, “Not me. I’ll get spoilt, you know, or worse, stuck!”

You gasp dramatically.

I sigh.

“What would you do with it anyway?” you murmur as you caress it, pressing random buttons, knowing what it does to me, caressing it’s worn shiny surface with your fingertips.

They wouldn’t be able to tell our fingerprints apart.
Even today.

Technology doesn’t stand a chance.

“Would you rewind?” you question, interested.

“No.” I say slowly. So I’ve made mistakes, who hasn’t? Maybe I’d try and save certain lives if I could, but there are some things you can’t control. You don’t. Even your Remote lives by rules. I’m no saint, I’m not saying I wouldn’t want to correct mistakes, I’m saying I wouldn’t know how.
Might as well leave that mess for the Gods to clear up.

“Would you fast forward then?” you ask, playing catch with it.
You’re looking at me with a ‘jump puppy, jump’ expression.

“No.” I mutter defiantly.

The future’s not ours to see,
Que sera sera
What will be will be.

Or maybe I’m just scared, scared of what I might or might not find.
Or who.

“So basically, you want your subtitles back?” you say, smirking. smirksmirksmirk

“I’d like that.”
So let Them read between the lines. I’m done trying to understand this illusion of a world. This great big farce. They’ll be able to tell what I’m thinking, when I’m happy, when I’m sad, what i want, who i want..no more facades.
..ughh.. the very thought depresses me.
All that false sympathy.
And they’ll be able to tell what I think of them. What I really think.
Hmm..doesn’t sound so good after all.

“Or maybe not,” I mumble, eyes downcast.

“It’s amazing what smiles and war paint can do these days,” you grin.

“Make up,” I correct you, fed up now.

“So it's the pause-play that’s got you hassled haan?”
My Remote’s your plane now. You’re making those annoying ‘vroom vroom’ noises.

“Yes,” I say decidedly. “I dread Pause. I hate living in limbo. It’s a bit like floating. This staggering numbness overtakes you and you don’t feel. You go through the motions like a puppet on a string. You laugh when you’re supposed to, you cry when they do and when they clap their hands and say ‘entertain us’, you comply”

“Don’t you ‘pause’?” you glimmer naughtily.
You know all the answers. You’ve got the Remote perched between your toes now as you swing your legs languidly around.

“You didn’t expect me to Die, did you? For your information, that happens when you go all Stop on me. When you pause me I become listless, emotionless, like an actress in a play where I’ve lost my script. Come to think of it, Play isn’t that much help either. Who do you want me to ‘Play’ anyway? Yeah yeah ‘Be Yourself’…” I sneer predicting your response.

You pretend to look hurt.
Like I’ve grabbed your favourite candy from right under your nose.

Now you’ve whipped out the Remote with a glamorous air and started gesticulating wildly into space like you’ve crossed superstardom and entered Goddessdom.

Ah well.

I’m resigned to my fate now, Your fate, in actual fact.

So I’m determined to bare my soul.
Or whatever’s left of it.

“Look, I’m sick of Play-ing people I’m not. The goth, the blonde, the loudmouth, the bitch, the warrior princess, the slut.. It’s a cruel world. If you don’t seal in the label they created for you, you can kiss your happily ever after goodbye”

You prance around me noisily holding the Remote in your hand like a microphone.

“And the Oscar goes to…”

“If you don’t mind,”I whisper softly, “I’d rather just Live.”

You stop.

“I’ll think about it,” you say.

And for once, I believe you.

I have no choice.

I lost it when i chose you,
Me.