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And yet there it is, it’s always the same ending just different character names. I’ve rewritten the lines over and over again, replaced the setting with new landscapes, destroyed and resewn the fabrics each and every time. And still the same disastrous finale.

Too short, too wild, too ugly, too quiet, too this, too that, there’s never a fit, never a founding, never a different story. And somehow my deranged soul still keeps at it. Masochistic really.

And then they ask why I disappear. Why would I stay for the final credits when I already know how it ends. So I take it all back, all of it. Maybe I’m just better at monologues, quiet soliloquys, whispered to myself.