Hi, I’m the Female Love Interest in This Student Film. This Is My Story.

Um, hi! Ha. I’m so…awkward. I mean, I’m not

This picture was taken in front of the taco truck we go to every day because I looooove tacos so much and eat 12 every day! Yet, my elfin figure stays intact.

Um, hi! Ha. I’m so…awkward. I mean, I’m not. I’m just…I’ll stop talking. Blah! Okay, let’s begin over. I’m Eliza, or Eloise, or Emmaline, or extremely any “E” name that reminds you of the sound of the wind on a cool spring day, or the elusive woman in your film theory category that sits within the back and says nothing however is exalting even so.

So…where to start? I’ve got such a lot to mention, nevertheless nothing in any respect. typically I’ll simply offer you a glance that conveys everything i would like you, Oliver or Owen or one thing, to know regarding ME. Or typically I’ll simply offer you a wry look and say, “Life. A tragically stunning sentiment created by a cynic.”

But you'll still hear my voice whispering within the wind as you walk to your Experimental Film Theory category each Thursday morning.
I guess I’ll begin by telling you wherever I’m from — and the solution is obscurity very, nonetheless all over in between. however in all probability city, Ohio. Or somewhere close to lake. Or Northern CA. My mum was a server and that we stirred around plenty thanks to my dad’s flyaway thirst for all times. He ne'er did like staying in one place for too long. It’s funny — I assume that’s wherever i purchase it from; this unsatiable thirst for all times, for everything in it. He’s conjointly the rationale I completely date artists.

If we’re ever taking a go in the park along, please be ready on behalf of me to jerk your arm towards a band taking part in below a close-by cherry blossom tree. i will be able to most undoubtedly dance with the one baby diversion and initiate the bassist’s hat and place it on my very own head. everybody can laugh with delight and you'll simply consider American state and assume, wow, what did I neutralize my unhappy artist’s life to merit a lady World Health Organization virtually completely wears jean.

We’ll be in an exceedingly depository along and I’ll sob at the sight of a Pierre Auguste Renoir. you must faux to know the feeling those delicate lines and brushstrokes bring move into American state, although you’re puzzling over however you’d very somewhat be taking part in thieving car rather than being at this depository wherever a girl named Tahfi sold-out you a cappuccino. once she two-handed it to you, your fingertips brushed against each other. it absolutely was bone chilling. Primal. virtually penetrative, even. It caused you to feel distrustful and bitter regarding your childhood growing up within the suburbs of city.

Later that night, as an extreme close-up of my perfectly imperfect crooked teeth was in effect with the dewy, afterglow of sex still prevalent in my smile, you thought about Tahfi. After I eventually disappear and give you no notice other than a note in which I leave you a pressed flower and an old ticket from the Barenaked Ladies concert we went to, you’ll meet Tahfi again. You won’t marry her, though. You’re too busy trying to throw together some B-roll for your submission to Sundance, or managing a bike shop. This is why I freak out about our relationship in a CVS parking lot right after you bring me to your cousin’s wedding as a plus one.

Anyway, enough about me! I talk about myself too much. How…how are you, Sebastian? I assume that’s your name. To tell the truth, I’m not really sure why I like you­­ — I’m so full of joy and happiness and the color yellow, and you’re literally a sad sack of potatoes with dark hair.

But that’s just what makes you so intriguing and thought-provoking.

When we do it, it's forever reaching to finish with ME giving birth my head on your chest and tracing a fragile pattern over your lips with my elegant, long fingers. A two-shot thereon, for sure. Your sensual, tender lips. God, that mouth, I say with Associate in Nursing air of wonder. for a few reason. That mouth that habitually recites women’s jokes back at them solely moments when they need same them the primary time. That nose that may smell the scent of a girl in an exceedingly floral sundress from a mile away UN agency simply desires to be left alone––she isn’t paying attention to The Smiths on her outsized headphones, however instead, Hilary Duff’s classic album, Metamorphosis. however she’ll allow you to assume that she’s paying attention to The Smiths. I allow you to believe I hear The Smiths.

I may proceed, except for currently, I’m reaching to go stare at a cloud within the sky and surprise what percentage a lot of skirts I will work out of jean.

The Smiths discography is essentially my siren song to lure you in.
Kate Schulman is a student and aspiring comedy writer. She hopes to get a job after college and knows all the words to the rap verse in TLC’s song, “Waterfalls.”