Setting The Stage

I have refused to listen, refused to talk about it for too long. It wasn't coming out in a nice pretty poem or a cool clever story and it didn't hold my attention. How could I expect it to hold yours? You would not be entertained at all and appearances are everything, on with the show and all that bullshit. There will be no standing ovation for this one. One night only, no repeat performance. I will stand here naked and exposed and tell the whole story. Not just the parts that I love to tell, those are the ones that let me show off what a great actress I really am. Or so I thought. I think the sign of a really, really great actress is being able to take the boring parts of my so called life and make them into something interesting. Will I be able to do that? Can I create that illusion? We're about to find out.

I'm scared shitless that I don't have anything to say this morning. I wake up, but not really. I'm sleeping late again. Following routine after routine, more of the same. I speak in fragments and incoherent thoughts. I piss myself off and it's not even 10am yet. I swore that I would wake up and be someone completely different today, but I'm really stuck in character. I don't know if I can even play anyone else, not before breakfast. I'm unprepared. Forgetting my lines. The sun shines through the blinds in my room and it makes a lightning bolt on the wall. Striking. I can't remember being this nervous...sweaty palms, shaking knees, cold feet, dry mouth, churning stomach, pounding heart. Do I have it in me to pull this off? I make my way to the bathroom. I try to hum a tune, but it's not following in rhythm with the thumping in my chest and I keep missing the beat. Must find the right song for today. It's the one constant that changes...the music. I have to be able to hear the music. My bed is made, but the room is still a messy mess. Full of a life that is neither here, nor there. Some strange in between, that is sometimes comforting because in my head I can be anywhere, but sometimes frightening because I have no fucking clue where I belong.

I flip on the light, brush my teeth, wash my face. Foamy soap, warm water. Scrub, scrub, scrub. Wash it all away. Grab a towel. Pat dry. Open my eyes. Look in the mirror.....

You again? I smile.

Well, at least I know my lines.

Now all that's left is to find the right song.

The song to fit the dance.

The dance to get the crowd on their feet.

Something to move not only the audience, but myself.

One more show, just for today.

Give them what they came for.

They didn't come to see her, they came to see you.

Another sell-out performance!

Besides...

Who the fuck wants to play to half empty halls and echoes?