Death of a Salesman

A great classic drama.
Willy Loman, salesman extraordinaire, lives a lie. He is grandiose, histrionic, deceptive to himself and to others. He has perfected the art of appearances, of seeming to be everything he is not.

A party. He looks at her, when the lights are off and the buzzing silence is more apparent than it should be. Words, soft, cautious words spoken in low tones. Faltering voice, sideways grin, is this real?

No. Of course it isn't. How could it be? That would mean contentedness, and she's already embraced the fact that she never wants to be content. But she was ready to be, at least for one night, perhaps forever.

The symbolic heart is such a delicate figure, fragile. She fully gives hers to a rare few.

"You are a really good salesperson". She wanted to hurt him.
"I just don't think we are at a place to be anything". He hurt her.

But she is resilient. She will get over it. It's the only thing she knows how to do anymore, as the light fades into her window. Warmth. Solitude.

Long ago, yesterday; the scene is the same. She feels like, somehow, she always ends up the most hurt.


...

I apologize if this post is unclear to some readers. It is not necessarily meant to be understood.

Happy Birthday to me :)
19, but I feel just like a child! Which reminds me...