Tonight at the Cinema

Life is just like the movies for me.
Some things are supposed to be a part of the script, some of the things aren't.
Sometimes it's a great movie, and sometimes you want to walk out before it's half through.
Sometimes it makes you re-think things, and sometimes it makes you laugh. At times it could make you cry. And it will and it does.
Sometimes, you become so caught up in the movie nothing else can reach you.
And certain scenes you keep reliving over and over again.
For some people, they're the lead actress or actor. For others, they're in the audience watching. I wish I knew where my place was these days.
Everything I do...always seems so fake. My plastered on smiles. My store bought laughter.
It seems as if, I'm always acting. I don't ever know whats real anymore.
Sometimes I'm caught up in the feeling of the movie. So caught up in my emotions, pulled so far into my life. Into myself. And everything goes smoothly and the production is outstanding. Everything goes as planned, and everything kept strictly to the script. And I keep screaming at the lead actress. I keep yelling at the screen. But it's the movies...
No one hears my silent screams. No one ever sees my tears in the back of the theatre. No one knows.
Sometimes the movie doesn't stay on track like it should. And people, they get in a rush and they just...
They just fuck everything up.
And the script is thrown away and everything is impromptu from there on.
Jason's death...that wasn't a part of the script. But just like everything else...everyone does what they're supposed to. On cue, tears spring forth. Emotions are stirred.
But it's all fake. The screams, the tears, the horror, the disbelief. It all feels so foreign to me. Yet my reactions are natural. I've been almost institutionalized through my position in the production of the movie.
The memories of my early childhood are always full of laughter and there's always a smile lingering somewhere. And as the memories wear on, they become overshadowed by the darker ones. The music in the background always befitting, the smell of tears always faint in the air.
My memories are like commercials, ads for the movie. One of my favorites are flashbacks with my daddy pushing me in a swing when I was six. Or maybe one with a voice over as the camera pans across my body beneath the fan. My head turned slightly to the side, while I tell you about my troubles.
And when the movie is over, I exit the theatre and once again there's that hollow feeling. And I'll go home and I'll hear the commercials fading through from mother's room. And I'll re-live the movie once more while I lay beneath the fan and tell you all about my troubles.
Maybe one day I'll win a prestigious award for my performance. Or maybe I'll be left with a ticket stub because I stayed back in the audience.

Where are you in the dark crowd of faces in the packed cinema?