I'll follow you

"Our performance went smoothly...as always. After practicing so much, there really wasn't much we could mess up on. In fact, it actually started getting a little boring. In Beauty and the Beast, Belle wants to get away from her 'dull provincial town.' But what happens once you get bored with your life, playing a character who's bored with THEIR life? What would I do if I quit this production? I loved acting, but I didn't want to start doing movies. That would take too much time away from Frankie, and I didn't want that to happen. Could I get more into music? No. Too much of a risk. Why does life have to be so complicated? I just-"

"Are you talking to yourself?" Bill walked through the door to the green room.

"Ugh, YOU RUINED MY MONOLOGUE!" It's not polite to interrupt people when they're talking to themselves. Didn't his mother ever teach him that?!

He gave me a slightly creeped out look, and then continued. "Aaaaanway...we decided to have a cast party here tonight...we kinda forgot to book a restaurant, so...yeah. We're ordered enough pizza for the number of members coming."

"Well...I already ate, and I'm feeling kinda tired, so...d'ya think I could..."

"Skip this one? No."

I sighed. "Fine." For whatever reason, I was practically in tears. One of the reasons I had decided to move to New York was becuase it was a big enough for me to feel free. The town I had lived in for most of my childhood was suffocatingly small with nowhere to go, nothing to do, no one to talk to, and no where to get away to. Now, I was trapped inside this theatre all the time, which wasn't much different. I dragged myself over to my bag and pulled out my phone, about to call Nicole, when I turned back around. "Bill, I quit."

"W...what?" he choked in disbeliefe.

"I quit. I can't handle my commitment to this production anymore. Jordan can play the regular Belle from now on. I just can't do it." (Jordan, by the way, was my understudy, who I had coincedentally known for years). My voice was beginning to shake with anger, which for unknown reasons was like...my default setting other than sarcastic, and my the tremor in my arms started. "I'm sorry it's so short notice, but...I don't know. I'm just gonna get the rest of my things from my dressing room, and...yeah...just...bye." I grabbed my bag and ran out of the room to avoid any further conversation.

After grabbing whatever I usually kept in my dressing room, I left the Palace Theatre for the last time. I went out to a bar and downed like...five diet cokes. I'd been sober for eight years, since I was eighteen. Since I was...maybe nine, I had always taken cans of beer out of the fridge, or snuck a sip of my dad's Sam Adams while he was in the bathroom at a restaurant. I mean, I wasn't an alchoholic fourth grader or anything. I just...enjoyed beer. Over the years, I just started to drink more and more. When I was thirteen, I realized it may eventually develop into a problem, but did I stop? No. When I was fifteen, I started getting drunk a lot when my parents were out. It was mostly just in my room, but through the next few years, it was at parties, dances, and wherever the hell else I went at night. I don't even know why I did it. I don't remember it helping me feel better, or even me THINKING it would make me feel better. I just...drank.

Anyway, after finishing my fifth coke, I realized how much of a caffeine crash I was beginning to have. After sobering up, I became literally addicted to caffeine. Usually it was just in soda, but I took caffeine tablets sometimes too. I was getting tired of it though. It didn't do enough for me. Just then, the bar tender walked over to me.

"You gonna have another one, or are you done yet?"

I hesitated. "I'll have a pint of Sam Adams." He nodded, and minutes later, my years of hard work and self restraint crashed and burned. My surface thoughts were simply "Beer is so much better than soda", but i know SOMEWHERE in the back of my mind, I realized what a stupid mistake I had just made.