Ocean’s 1.

"There is a moment in our lives when the people we love the most dissapoint us. When eveyrthing we have known to be true crumbles right before our eyes, faster than the waves crash into a sandcastle. Sure, we may be thirty, eighty, perhaps twenty-six years of age, but when the cold hard truth slams into our face, we find ourselve feeling nine years old again, devestated as our hard work of sweat-begotten hours gets wiped out in mere seconds, with no warning or pity. Sure, we know the water is dangerous and tempremental, that it holds the infinite power we subconcsiouly wish to possess and more. But we build our little homes near their dazzing blue siren calls and bask in the salty, sticky breeze that coats our impatient pats and prods. We whistle softly, humming nonsensical tunes, as we build up these fragile walls and far too many ornate adornments. We giggle in suprise as the cold kisses tease our outstretched feet. And yet, when it all comes crashing down, we are at a loss. Where the hell did we go wrong?

Well if I've learned one thing from my sandcastling, it is simply this: Jake Waldton Miller is a fool. A stupid, sorry fool who thinks he is the only man in this whole entire country who owns a stupid boat and has affairs no one knows about. A stupid, sorry fool whose siren calls have far too many sandcastles brushing their tears and wishing for glimpses of his depths. Well, I have one thing to say: screw you Jake Miller."

Everyone stares in pin-drop silence as this innocent, pink dream spews the last four words with an unfathomed level of venom.

"Oh, and my deepest congratulations to the bride and groom."

They watch, eyes-wide, as the maid of honor, calmly walks down the stairs of the stage. The bride presses a purse into her hands, kissing her softly on the cheek as she steels the tears in her eyes. She squeezes the groom's hand, he softly pressing back as to accept her apology. With that, she continues to storm ahead, eyes focused on the polished doors she must cross over to freedom.

A couple people crowd around the windows to observe her pensive, measured walk to the glitzy boat, a stark, white imprint among the foliage. The gasps, second-hand embarassment, and horror refuse to fade slowly as wedding photographers click the every move she makes. She climbs aboard, steadying her shaking knees, and firmly plants her feet into the upper deck. As the engine revs, she begins to coax out a hidden smile, set to the backdrop of some pleading shout that loses its importance in the grand statures of the towering trees and placid water.

Now, that was some Academy-Award winning performance.