“‘Unoriginal, basic and been there, done that??’ Are you reading this? I’m not sure if he’s talking about my performance or his writing? I mean honestly!”

I hear no response, no comment from my friend on my valid points. I stop pacing around the room and sharply turn to my friend in the corner. Jabbing the newspaper in her direction “Any input into my career ending review?”

She looks up from the newspaper, only to give me a single eye roll and then returns to reading without a word.

“Ugh, you are seriously the slowest reader, did you stop practicing how to read when you were two?”

Her eyes quickly shot up to me, narrowing them in a scowl. “Lose the attitude or I’ll write another review and really end your career.”

“Dramatic much, but fine take a lifetime.”

I plop down in the couch facing the table my friend was sitting at. Looking up to the ceiling, I place my arm over my eyes. I was tired, not being able to sleep after my performance, waiting for this review to come out. Now reading it, I wished I never asked the newspaper from my small town to come critic me.

I only wanted to bring entertainment to this town; maybe start a small recreation studio to bring the arts to the kids.

“It’s not that bad”

Did I hear her correctly? Slowly removing my arm from over my eyes and leaning closer to her. I give her a dumbfounded look.

“Not that bad? It literally says, and I quote” I dramatically open the newspaper to the paragraph and read “‘Do I recommend this performance? Yes but it’s a basic retelling of sleeping Beauty, nothing original; a back to basics performance.” I shake the paper at her trying to convey a ‘hello, are you stupid?’ look.

“Yes and he continues to say that everyone should watch it and support you. Plus it’s a small town and everyone here adores you.” Her head tilts to the side and gives me a knowing look. I knew that look well, I was being melodramatic again.

“He didn’t have to add that middle part about ‘being at rehearsals’ so he felt as if ‘he’d been there, done that’ or or OR that one line about ‘the unoriginal script’. Of course it’s unoriginal, you can pay for the scripts online to learn. It’s how many theaters do it. I’m not going to rewrite a whole play, who has the time for that? I mean come on, does he not want the kids in this town to have anything to do? By the time I write another script I’ll be on my deathbed and then who will teach the kids how to act? He knows I’m not a writer; I barely made it through English in high school.”

I was feeling lightheaded, when was the last time I took a breath. Again I noticed no response, as I looked around I find I was now pacing the room again, rambling and honestly being dramatic. I stop and face my friend who is staring at me and giving me a weird smile. “What?” I ask.

“Your going to be a great drama coach to those kids.”