crit
05/31/06, 09:40 AM
Sometimes I need to take a step back away from myself and look at the situation. There is not a single camera in sight, no microphones, no director, no grips, nothing. No one. It's just me. And sometimes you. And sometimes you. And sometimes you. The you's go on forever. Too many names? (Not enough days!) Too many numbers? (Not enough weeks!) No? (Yes!) But there are so many and this thing is always ringing or buzzing (and so are my ears) and I don't always know what to say and sometimes that's more than I can handle. If you try to please everyone you will please no one. Point taken. Almost nothing truly scares me in this fucked up world, but sometimes this fear really gets me. The seasons are bleeding together and I don't know whether or not how sad I just got was of my own volition or if I'm just missing the sun. Sometimes I lie there and think that every word and every move has to be perfect, as if I was stuck in the movie of my life. Sometimes I think those non-existant cameras are real and always rolling, and the guy with the awful beard and I <3 NY coffee mug was really running the show and making sure the words the moves the intonation the inflection the reflection the makeup the light the hair were all just right. But there's no script, and there's no bearded guy yelling "action!" I'm making it up as I go along and just hoping the words the moves the intonation the inflection the reflection the makeup the light the hair are right. Doors open and close and everything (themoodthetemperaturetheatmosphere thebehaviors) change as they do. There's a line visible in the sand but I'm pretty sure it has no meaning and cannot be defined. We each have one foot on each side. Fifty miles apart, on the edge of the world. These are the moves that keep me up all night that I missed. Just be careful not to leave any evidence. Imagine what the cast would say about these bruises. My back always hurts in the morning but it's the kind of pain that evokes the kind of smile that makes it seem okay. I know what's in your system tonight and I know what's in my head tonight and it's almost that time again. The butterflies have been conspiring for months and I think this time they're making a break for it. They might actually come right out of my throat the second the door shuts. I wasn't named after Columbus, but here I am 513 years later with three less ships, and I too have found something I didn't intend to find and never knew existed. I'm just dying to live to protect it. I should just shut up and...