For Her - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

To say I was obsessed with one particular human being wouldn't be too far from the truth.

In my mind; life is a film. I constantly feel like I'm acting to a camera that isn't there. Perhaps that's why people find me funny because I always seem to be saying things for a reaction (My audiences reaction) This possibly could be some strain of ego that I have developed, but then I think to myself: I am an average, untalented, 23 year old, retail clerk. Not much going on, other than grief from customers.
So films were an escape for me and I love them for that. For the hour and a half that I am entranced in a world that is not my own, all else is forgotten. Similar to how an alcoholic goes on a crazy drinking bender, I just have a movie night marathon. More recently with one particular actress:

Tara Hart.

She is, of course, beautiful, but that isn't what attracts me to her, its her raw talent at what she does so well. She can make me numb to the pathetic attributes that make my life, even after the film has finished.
I continue to research her to find other features she has been in so my numbness can continue. I end up watching some interviews. She has such grace, such passion for her films and her characters. I admire the dedication she has to her work maybe because I have none for my own, or any life goals for that matter.
My only goal is too exist.
I envy her for this.
I also love her for this.
I want to be part of her life and experience her first hand. She seems like a down to earth kind of girl too. She has only been in 11 films, two were blockbusters and the rest dark independent films which are my personal favourites. She doesn't have a family anymore, Neither do I, She loves classical music, I also adore it.  I cant remember if I really liked it before I got obsessed but I convinced myself I did.
Beautiful brown eyes. Dirty Blonde hair that falls from behind her ear like a small stream of water running down the edge of a glass.  Her hair is the finest fabric that I would pay any price to own.  God listen to me, I sound like one of those little girls who got their daddies to buy them a lock of Justin Bieber's hair for $20,000.
I sound pathetic!
I don't think this is strange, I don't know why but this somehow feels right. To be in unrequited love with someone who doesn't even know I exist. It's a kind of warmth.

Everyone knows at work, its a joke to everyone but me but I play to the cameras and joke along.

"Don't say her name or Christian might jizz all over the customers!" says Eric (My supervisor) to Tommy

"Don't worry, I have a minimum distance of 1 metre so I think the customers would just get the splash backs" I reply, in a fake attempt to join in.

They laugh, they always laugh.
Sometimes I don't know if I'm the comedian or the joke.
Charlotte, a girl who I work with, she is 3 years younger than me. We get along because of our similar love for film and media in general. She is your typical young girl, with the world in the palm of her hands.  She chose journalism, Her dad didn't like this.
She once told me that when she told her parents of her plan to be a journalist, her father told her that she had wished to become "a cunt."
That was the first time she had ever heard him say that word.
Her father had in the last few years come under fire from every news page, some banker bullshit or whatever I can't really remember.  I pushed that stuff out of my memory and replaced it with the monologue from Pulp Fiction. Ezekiel 25:17. I have strange take on what I consider important to remember.
I can remember the year Tara Hart was born without hesitation but I struggle to remember my pin on regular occasions. Sorry, back to Charlotte. She was nice to me, decent even, didn't just see me as a good laugh.
I tried to show my appreciation, by regularly taking drunk calls from her at 2 am about how her boyfriend did this or her friend said this etc. I wouldn't consider us best friends though she would probably beg to differ. She would also say there is something Autistic about me.

"Rubbish" I would tell her.
Knowing full well that I think, act, perceive things differently from the rest. But I would rather be called strange than diagnosed with some personality disorder, which would label me to society as different. Being called 'a bit weird' from my peers would suit me just fine.

Today Charlotte rushed over to me after she clocked in for her shift. We both worked at some run of the mill hardware store called Handy-man's Stash.
Ridiculous name.
Even more ridiculously run by a team of hot headed executives with bad judgment calls.
"Christian!" she explodes
"What is it?" I reply, trying to seem interested.
"What are doing on Friday?"
"I dunno, let me check the rota" I say going towards my phone.

I know what she is going to ask, she is going to try invite me out clubbing with her and her uni friends. So here comes my next camera performance;
I'm going to lift my phone up
Pretend I'm checking the days I'm working
Tell her:
"Oh shoot! it seems I'm working that day."
Then hopefully I can sit at home and watch Tara Hart talk about gun violence in her newest interview on You tube then go to sleep.
Bliss.
Before I can even unlock my phone, she has taken it from my grasp.
"Hey! you don't even know my password!" I reply in a pathetic voice, upset at the invasion of my privacy.
"I know you and I know exactly what your password would be!" She replies in an evil villain type of way.
Of course she would, she is smart. 1993. It's the year Tara Hart was born. I'm predictable like that.
The sound of the click; my phone does as it unlocks, makes my heart thump irrationally. I don't know if it's because I might have to put up with drunken students for one night or whether the fact that someone might actually have me figured out, that scares me.
"Your not working that night so..." She tells me.

A sudden list of excuses appears before my eyes, all over done. I'm done, she finally wins.

"I've been invited by a magazine called Flintz..."

I've heard of them before, once bought a copy because 'you know who' was on the front cover, titled 'faces to watch out for in the future.'

"To do a write up on a Q&A session but I need a photographer to accompany me and I know you did photography"

She pauses.

"Why don't you get one of your uni mates to do it?" I ask

"Because it's a Q&A with Tara Hart." She drops it like a bombshell on me.

I can't...I can't even. Just to be in her presence. Maybe even meet her. I can't even fathom what I would say to her. My body feels like an empty shell, no muscles left to move my limbs, just emptiness. This sensation lasts for 2 minutes before I realize that Charlotte has been repeating my name.

"Christian?!" she says to me like I'm a child.

"Yes." I finally say.

"Awesome!" she says gleefully.

I zone out for the rest of the day, replaying 100 different types of scenarios on how I would finally meet my goddess. Tara Hart. I bet she would greet me with an awkward cute kind of smile. She isn't one of those stuck up celebrities, you see she would take on a screaming crowd with a smile. She isn't that huge so she appreciates each one of her fans.
Down to earth.

The next few days leading up to Friday don't go quick enough. I'm like a child who is waiting to go to Disneyland or for Santa Claus on Christmas eve. I'm giddy and constantly finding myself smiling like an insane person. Every night I stay awake seeing her face whenever I close my eyes.

"Hi there" She whispers to me in my dreams.

 Her smile so perfect. Her eyes are beautiful galaxies I wish to gaze upon for hours and hours. Her perfect jaw line I want to stroke with the back of my hand as I gaze into her eyes intimately. Then I suddenly realize; what if she doesn't live up to my expectations, What if she is repulsed by me, what if she is stuck up, what if I say something stupid and she thinks I'm a weirdo stalker. What if...

Friday eventually comes.