Drama and the Drama Queen.

I know the Drama Queen who has been swaggering around, her exclamations aloud, her sobs are the minimalist version of her emotional flamboyance. In her more vibrant moods she would give you no less then bouts of giggles and soprano laughter in a falsetto that would give the opera singers a deep beetroot tinge.

She can pout, snob,bitch and she'll don all those props with elan. You would stare at her vivacity and the liveliness of the act that she can put up and be amazed at the theatricals that are involved in the frequent enlivening of her moods. The autumn at play changes to spring at it's awakening and the winter if comes is no less than grey. Summer soot and sultry and she would playfully change the season of these expressions in a rush on a face that seems overcast with multitudes.

I do not trust her act, It's too loud for my taste. Like a cloying perfume that encapsulates the atmosphere in it's own fragrance , her skills manipulate them people into believing her and the calamity of a situation that she portrays. I look at the haze that spreads as the dust particles are scattered in the spotlight that is now fixed on her but do not let myself be blinded by her antics.I wait for the lights to dim, for the show girls to settle and for her to stand in the dimming light and then I walk up to her, take a closer look.I'am amused at her candid candy floss, You get what you see talks...and then quietly decode them into my own version.Sans the superficiality it makes so much more sense. She's just a girl, which one of them I am torn between them. I'll decode my self.