Words for Actions for Nervous Actors

Oh man.

I jipped myself real good this time.


I had this idea that while I was up here, I'd be spending as much time as I could possibly spend with this man and we didn't. We couldn't. Logistics. We simply couldn't. I'm awfully concerned that he'll give up in frustration.


Nothing terrifies me more than losing him to disinterest, to a fairer other, more of a go-getter, blessed with ladder-climbing capabilities. A pretty face and tiny waist but a big fat ass and a wardrobe to put Vogue to shame. A younger better simpler little lady to do the things I've done and want to do with him.


You know, I panic every time I want to see him. When I'm with him, the panic quits. But before I can leave to meet this man, this violent greedy panic seethes and swells to consume every possibility of my arrival. I will see him and he will laugh and I won't have anything to say. I will stare at him, slack-jawed and shaking and he will squint, grimace, and turn to leave. I will never see him again.

This has never happened. It will probably never happen. I am convinced that Hell is myself.


You know they say that actions speak louder than words. This is a case where the opposite is true.

Patience please, I'm sure you're keeping busy but I'm trying to set my skin aside so I don't have to crawl.

If you don't believe me now, perhaps you will when my Love is set in paperback.