A Cry For Help.

I don't know if it's the emo-songs or the magnetic poetry or the restless nights (when do 'restless' nights turn into 'sleepless' nights?), or maybe it's a combination of the three, but for whatever reason lines just started coming to me and I felt the need to write (type) them down.

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts...." William Shakespeare: As You Like It (Scene II Act VII)

We all know that, we all learn it whenever we have to do a Shakespeare project, paper or play. But if the world's a stage, and we are all players, where's my script? Where are the words to my life, the lines to my days, weeks and years? Where do I pick this packet of paper up, where can I look over this jumble of conversations written down, so I can be prepared and understand what is going on?

If I could do this, I wouldn't need to worry about this rollercoaster ride of life, the dizzying effects some people have on me. It wouldnt' be riding high in the saddle one minute, dragged through the mud the next clinging onto my life and my sanity. I wouldn't have to worry about what's around the next bend, I can prepare and plan accordingly. I wouldn't need anyone else to let me vent, I would have no reason to vent. It would be my life, the way I chose, the way I dictate it.

I'd be ready.

No matter what life threw my way I'd be ready. I'd come prepared, I'd see what's going on and I could go with it. No more curve balls to keep me off balance, I'd be able to anticipate it and drive it the opposite way. I could mold the moment into MY moment. I could make every situation turn out for the best; no more gambling on a situation, worrying if something was gonna go my way or not. I wouldn't need that lucky bounce to push another guy away. I wouldn't need the train to be a minute late to save the girl from the tracks, I wouldn't need the damsel to let her hair down for me to save her from the castle tower, I'd have a ladder.

But this ain't a rehersal, this ain't a play, this ain't no telivision show taping. It's an improv. And in improvs only one person has the action cards, only one person has an inkling of what's gonna happen, and I hate to say it, but it ain't me.

Real life is an improv, and I'm not holding the cards.

Someone else is telling me what to do, what my motivation is, my reason for being here, he is feeding me my lines. I have no control over the being in my life, the direction I am heading. Sure I can take a hold of a certain parts and things start going my way, but someone else is always there able to end my run of brilliance, and I take a back seat to another group of participants.

No matter how well things are going, nor does it matter for how long, I'm always at the mercy of another person. Someone who can wisk me away and have another take my place. So much for my run, so much for all I've accomplished, so much for all I could do; it's time to pack it up and head to the backstage again. Yeah, sure they can call me back for cameos every now and then, but I'll never expect a lead role.

I've played many a parts, and I haven't found one that suits me. Most of the time I'm thrown on stage, put on the spot without the slightest idea of what's going on. As if everyone knows the lines but me. The audience has seen the production a thousand times and knows the words by heart, but I'm left at the station without a train pass. When the time finally comes to me, I don't know, I'm not prepared.

I freeze.

As if everyone is waiting for something profound and I'm still wondering where the lights are coming from. And while I worry about the stage and the scenery the play is passing me by. By the time I figure out the title the play is at intermission and it's too late now. The plots already developed, the characters already have their traits figured out. Everyone but me. I'm in the position where if I back out right now I won't even be noticed.

I'll be a blip in the review, a horrible footnote to an otherwise fantastic production.

And that's why I need my lines. I need someone there for me to tell me what to say, where to go, how to portray myself at a particular time. I need that extra help. Anything would be better than the hell I'm going through now. At the very least it would help for someone to stand behind the curtain and feed me my lines as they come.

For just with a little help I could pretend I'm someone special, someone someone out there cares about.

I wouldn't be playing second fiddle anymore, I'd be the star to someone's show, I'd be the lead singer in a band. I'd be special. I'd be someone you remembered years later. I'd steal someone's heart like I could steal a show.

I just need that little bit of help.