I used to believe there was a balance in the roles that people play. The best friend, the lover, the father, the daughter. That they were made to for those roles, and that the shift in roles would come at the right time. That there’d be this unofficial script, lines and expressions flowing naturally from the protagonist. That Shakespeare was right: the world literally is a stage, and that if we play our roles well enough, we’d earn a bravo and a round of applause when the curtain falls.
I’m not ready for any shift in roles. Any imbalance, any change. Even if its thrust upon me, I’m not ready to accept it. I will no doubt trip on the stage, stumble over and forget my lines, be unable to fit my new character. It’s like an oversized dress that drowns me in it. Or a costume too tight that’s suffocating me with every breath. The makeup ill-fits me and makes me ten times uglier, I get rotten tomatoes thrown at me because it’s not the role I’m meant to play and I just can’t take on it over night. The director screams at me because I’m the cause for his beautifully written play to be ruined, for being too useless because I’m incapable of versatility.
I need an understudy, because I know I’m not good enough to play multiple roles.
I need an understudy, to take over me & my place, should I take a fall & break apart to pieces.
I’d bet anything she’d play me a lot better than I do myself.