My name is Melissa Monroe, and I'm reading for the part of Marie.
Like the different sections of my life as a film, I can play and pause, trim and cut.
And each section, there is a different character that I play.
I fast forward and rewind.
And I lay here wondering how I got to this point.
A past character paid me a visit.
Some memories never fade to black.
My film.
The father has been cast without my choice.
And growing up, I played the role of abused child number one.
The father stepped into my life as quickly as he left me with these scars.
Why did he love me so much?
His fingers traced along my body, painted trails of panic into my skin.
Enough to last a lifetime.
But I don't need so much time.
Because I'm falling forward fast with enough speed to push me to the edge.
Surrounded by everyone, but seen by no one.
I play back my running time, and it's pretty short.
About as short as the scene that secured the insecurities in all of my characters.
I want to know the end credits before the opening.
The light at the end of the tunnel.
But I'm forced to begin from the start to get to the end.
And I see her.
That character that I can be. But I already am.
That's a cut. Alright. Baby, we got the shot.
Melissa. Melissa, baby, we got it.
Melissa.
Hey, baby, we got the shot. You're gonna be a star. Let's give a hand for this girl.
Let's get this girl out of the tub and into some clothes, huh?
And the plot thickens. I'm successful in the present.
But I can't tell this character's past from my own.
All of her memories have broken me and caused my mental state to roam.
I'm searching. I can see pieces of her and others around me.
I pick fragments of people's flaws and want them to surround me.
I embody all their shattered pieces and dreams into a reality.
Even though they pierce and prick, I can call them my home.
Those true life experiences I bring into my acting.
As my tragedy has acted out in real life, I carefully cast myself in this role.
It's all part of the act, and it's just for show.
Recounting the years since it all happened, eight, nine, ten.
It all happened ten years ago, or did it.
And I'm back here.
My turning point rotated 360 degrees.
And I'm forced to begin from the start, to get to the end.
And the suspense is killing me.
I see four shadows on these walls, each one haunting me, following me.
But I'm following the shadow myself, wandering and wandering these streets, wishing for a resolution.
But, unfortunately, there is no resolution in my three acts.
And I'm not that little girl anymore.
Remember, I said my running time is short.
And before your attention span wanders and walks away from me, I choose life.
Rather, I choose to take it into my own hands.
Not knowing if this is my movie, or my reality.
When will this be all done?
When I'm finally free, from everyone.
When I'm finally free, from everyone.
Music playing.
Music playing.
