Live action cinema. 

It always starts out like any other day.

Outside, life moves swiftly

I get into the routine of my day 

And in an instant, I hate everything. 

I’m mad at you and my friends 

And angry at myself and at my parents for making me this way, 

Angry at my genetics because it runs in the family. 

It’s like beating the walls in a padded cell–forcing out yells 

Hitting and throwing objects while the rest of society moves around me

Careful not to disturb the peace in their own lives 

Or maybe they have monsters inside their heads, too, and are better at concealing them. 

I have always had a flare for the dramatics, a knack for acting out passionately 

Yet this is not a performance and I am not acting for my own amusement.

This is a scene cut directly from the character I play, 

The kind of character written by some of the greatest authors and playwrites 

The kind the audience gets sucked into in all her chaotic glory

The kind of character that men find alluring, interesting, and complicated. 

I tell you my life story and you keep buying the drinks

Hoping I’m crazy enough to come home with you. 

When I fall into those hysterical moments, those manic moments 

I am invincible and charming and in the morning, 

I’ll roll over and out of bed 

Just as calmly as the whole episode began. 

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