The Move
643 Words
I remember some remnants of my childhood, watching some movies and practicing how to act like the stars on tv.
It was then I realized that acting was meant for me. It felt natural projecting a character far from my actual personality. I wanted to make people believe in the person I was trying to portray on screen. It was quite amazing how people on tv seem so different in real life.
I treat acting as an art. Where lies the beauty of more than just the script, but raw emotion. Some people in this industry just want fame and money, but for me, it just comes as an added bonus to doing what I love most.
Until one day, in just a blink, I lose all of it. My credibility, my so-called “friends”, and my career. 8 years. My hard work for 8 years all crumbled.
Now I am alone. In a city I’ve never been in, but surrounded with such spectacular beauty that makes me wish I wasn’t as broken as I am now.
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It's 6 pm right now and I just arrived in my new apartment. I rented a one bedroom apartment complex, since it's just going to me living here. I paid in advance and asked the owner nicely to get it cleaned before my flight to Madrid. Luckily the owner of the apartment was a nice middle- aged lady that speaks english well, since my Spanish was getting rusty.
The walls were white, shiny wooden floor, a gray carpet and comfy couch , a wooden table with two chairs and a small fireplace. I look up and see a nude bulb decor shaped like a cowbell.
Ugh my bag is too heavy. I thought internally. I almost forgot I was still carrying my big backpack with me. I slowly put my backpack and trolley near the door and arranged them neatly. I looked at it pleased.
“There”. I sighed softly after.
Reminding myself that I haven’t checked the kitchen yet, I headed there straight away.
The kitchen is located near the wall, separating the front door. It's small but I like it. Four small bulbs light up the kitchen. It's white themed. There’s a microwave on top with the upper cabinets, a gas range with an oven, a small dishwasher and a sink. In front of it is a countertop with a small plant with a native square pot and two rattan chairs.
Ah. A dishwasher, but I prefer washing my plates with a trusty sponge.
I smiled, reminded of how things are done back at home. If someone sees me right now, I might look like a lunatic.
With me being curious as ever, I approach the glass curved out windows. Close to it is a glass door connecting to a small balcony. I opened the door and headed out. It would be nice to get some fresh air.
The night air is a bit colder than the Philippines, but I’ll adjust soon enough. Each exhale produces a visible small whiff of air.
Hmm. I can see my breath.
I laugh at how I’m easily distracted by small things.
The city is lovely. With people bustling on an early evening. In a nearby shop, a woman just came straight in her work attire hurrying to buy dinner, and maybe some wine. Then as I surveyed my eyes to the right, a man was slowly biking with his headphones on.
I look at the view in front of me, instantly missing home.
“It will all be okay. Let’s start a new chapter Shie”. I whispered encouragingly to myself and wiped a lone tear that escaped.
A gust of cold air blew past me. I took it as a sign and went back inside.
- Writer
