The quote I chose is from Nick Dear & Danny Boyle's Frankenstein (which is brilliant by the way, and I really hope they make a DVD of it).
Victor asks the creature "How does it feel to be in love?" And the response is what I used for the story (this dialogue varies from performance to performance):
"It feels like all the life is bubbling up in me and spilling from my mouth, it feels like my lungs are on fire and my heart is a hammer it feels like I can do anything in the world!"
Love and The Lost
How does it feel to be
in love?
It's like a construction crew is working in my chest. They are using my heart as a hammer to connect each piece of the structure and welding the metal beams with the fire in my lungs. I can barely hear my own thoughts over the racket they’re making.
This is how it always is, though. Each morning we step on to the train and share the same car, but never speak a word to one another. I'm too afraid to open my mouth, as if doing so will cause all my feelings, all my affections for her to spill out into a puddle on the floor.
I feel braver today. Like a superhero waiting on that cry for help to spring into action and rescue the damsel. Of course, she's no damsel in distress. She walks with confidence and has an air of culture about her that I will never wear. I just need an excuse to approach her.
What are you reading? I could ask that to start.
No, I can't interrupt her while she's reading. She's always so engrossed in the pages that the interruption would be devastating. No one likes to be interrupted while they are reading, and she is a passionate, voracious reader. Except there's something different about today. Her gray eyes barely move and we have passed two stations without her turning the page. She's not reading at all. She must be thinking about the book instead; I can't interrupt her.
One more stop and we will reach our station. That's when I'll do it. I will ask her about the book or compliment her yellow sweater. I feel like I can do anything today. She empowers me to be a better person, motivates me to be happier.
I can do anything in the world and it will all start on this station platform. I'll let her exit first and walk in time with her. Months of waiting, but today I have my courage. There she goes and now I will follow. Not too close, not too eager.
She's stopped. Everyone moves around us to file off the train, but she's waiting. On what? Are we at the wrong station?
The train is pulling away and I'm too nervous to approach her, but something is wrong. Maybe she's going somewhere different today and has to wait for the next train. Or maybe she has noticed me.
She might think me a stalker. It would be difficult to explain that I'm not. Today is not the day after all. Maybe tomorrow or the next day.
I pass her by, and she returns to the platform. Did she lose something?
The sound of another train. She can't be boarding, she's on the wrong side.
A thump, she's dropped her book! This is what I have waited for, this is my opportunity!
But where has she gone? People on the other side are panicked and flailing their arms. My girl in the yellow sweater has jumped onto the tracks.
Construction is in full swing; my heart is a hammer and my lungs are on fire and all the life inside me is bubbling up and escaping my lips in pants as I run. I will never have this feeling again if she is gone. The sound of my heart is drowned out by the roar of the approaching train and it will be the only sound I ever hear when I see a yellow sweater again.
The roar of the train and the screech it made as it stopped moments later.
Is this how love feels? Breathless and frightened. Lying on the platform with the girl in the yellow sweater. Clinging to her and the copy of Paradise Lost.
"You dropped your book."
You finally have your chance and you decide to be clever. That's all right, you can do better next time. She makes you feel like you can do anything and maybe now she will feel the same.
It's like a construction crew is working in my chest. They are using my heart as a hammer to connect each piece of the structure and welding the metal beams with the fire in my lungs. I can barely hear my own thoughts over the racket they’re making.
This is how it always is, though. Each morning we step on to the train and share the same car, but never speak a word to one another. I'm too afraid to open my mouth, as if doing so will cause all my feelings, all my affections for her to spill out into a puddle on the floor.
I feel braver today. Like a superhero waiting on that cry for help to spring into action and rescue the damsel. Of course, she's no damsel in distress. She walks with confidence and has an air of culture about her that I will never wear. I just need an excuse to approach her.
What are you reading? I could ask that to start.
No, I can't interrupt her while she's reading. She's always so engrossed in the pages that the interruption would be devastating. No one likes to be interrupted while they are reading, and she is a passionate, voracious reader. Except there's something different about today. Her gray eyes barely move and we have passed two stations without her turning the page. She's not reading at all. She must be thinking about the book instead; I can't interrupt her.
One more stop and we will reach our station. That's when I'll do it. I will ask her about the book or compliment her yellow sweater. I feel like I can do anything today. She empowers me to be a better person, motivates me to be happier.
I can do anything in the world and it will all start on this station platform. I'll let her exit first and walk in time with her. Months of waiting, but today I have my courage. There she goes and now I will follow. Not too close, not too eager.
She's stopped. Everyone moves around us to file off the train, but she's waiting. On what? Are we at the wrong station?
The train is pulling away and I'm too nervous to approach her, but something is wrong. Maybe she's going somewhere different today and has to wait for the next train. Or maybe she has noticed me.
She might think me a stalker. It would be difficult to explain that I'm not. Today is not the day after all. Maybe tomorrow or the next day.
I pass her by, and she returns to the platform. Did she lose something?
The sound of another train. She can't be boarding, she's on the wrong side.
A thump, she's dropped her book! This is what I have waited for, this is my opportunity!
But where has she gone? People on the other side are panicked and flailing their arms. My girl in the yellow sweater has jumped onto the tracks.
Construction is in full swing; my heart is a hammer and my lungs are on fire and all the life inside me is bubbling up and escaping my lips in pants as I run. I will never have this feeling again if she is gone. The sound of my heart is drowned out by the roar of the approaching train and it will be the only sound I ever hear when I see a yellow sweater again.
The roar of the train and the screech it made as it stopped moments later.
Is this how love feels? Breathless and frightened. Lying on the platform with the girl in the yellow sweater. Clinging to her and the copy of Paradise Lost.
"You dropped your book."
You finally have your chance and you decide to be clever. That's all right, you can do better next time. She makes you feel like you can do anything and maybe now she will feel the same.
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