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by Tanza

Another one of those days eh?  Yeah, that's what everyone says.  I hadn't even finished my stand-up routine and there they were...waiting to shove me about as I left the stage.  Yeah, yeah I know...I should be really grateful my fans love me.  I don't know how I manage to find my way to the dressing room without them guiding me harshly in the right direction.  If this is how they show their adoration, I really don't want to see them when they're disappointed.  I guess, if I was mega famous, I'd have bodyguards and be escorted safely around the building.  Sadly, no, I'm not famous enough for that.  I have to suffer the grabbing, clawing women who try desperately to pull me in their direction, by tugging viciously at my clothes.  Drunk, sad, middle-aged women...too pissed-up to realize what they're doing.  The make-up girls put concealer on my face to even out my complexion, but it's mostly to hide the sore and unsightly scratches these bloody crazy, so-called, fans blindly scar me with...silly cows!

I wouldn't mind, but none of them would look twice at me if I wasn't on a stage making a tit of myself.  They don't want ME, they want the guy on stage who everyone's looking at.  They want to be the woman HE fancies and wants to take home for a shag.   Since when did trying to kill someone become the norm for encouraging them to sleep with you?  How does throwing your drink up their back as they walk away make them want to run back to you and hold you lovingly in their arms.  What on earth am I missing here?  I thought I'd be surrounded by lovely, happy people who would enjoy my routines and...well...just be normal about it.  I certainly didn't expect all this.  Oh yeah, some nights I get the odd quiet one who just wants an autograph, a hug and a peck on the cheek.  Something in the middle would be nice, but that wont happen will it?  I'll never be seen as just me.  I'll always been seen as a fun and care-free bloke whose only purpose in life is to cheer everyone up.  I'll always be everyone else's entertainment.  Then again, that is what I've worked my whole life at trying to be and, hey presto, here I am!

So, why am I not happy?  Why don't I enjoy sad, lonely men following me about in bars and trying to be my friend?  Why does it make my skin crawl every time they stand near me and behave like prats in the hope I'll notice them and join in with their witty conversation?   I can't win.  If I'm friendly, I'm stuck with them all night.  If I try to ignore them, they get angry.  I've had quite a few macho types thinking they can put me in my place and knock the comedy out of me.  Nice try fellas...but it's already gone.   I could have as many friends as I want and as many women as I want.  That's what people keep telling me.  I couldn't though, could I?  I can only have the people who want the funny bloke on the stage.  I can only have the women who think bedding a comedian would inject fun and laughter into their lives...literally!  That's not having anyone I want...that's having anyone who wants the person they think I am...if that makes sense.  Who would want that?  Who would want people around them who don't really know them...deep down?

I sit here, now, looking into the mirror in my dressing room.  This is me and nobody wants what I am...not really.  No-one wants to come and share the world I exist in off-stage.  Who would want to shuffle round Sainsbury's with me, buying baked beans and cheese slices?  Who would give a shit what bread I prefer?  Who would want to watch me fall asleep in front of Corrie as a half-eaten Chinese take-away slowly slips off my lap?  Who would want to listen to my problems for more than five minutes without running a mile?

So, yeah, just another one of those days.  Another day spent laughing and joking with anyone about anything and everything...when, really, I hate my life and everything in it.  I've worked so hard and for so many years at being someone that people laugh at...and I've got the scars to prove it!  I've achieved what I set out to do.  I'm never short of work and people are falling over themselves to be around me.  It's all good...isn't it?   Of course it is!   So why does the person I really am...the person I crave to be again...now remain hidden and ashamed?  Why has it taken me so long to realize that everything I thought I ever wanted has turned my life upside-down and left me living in a shallow and fake world?   It's all so fake...until I sit here in front of this mirror, gazing into the eyes of the man opposite.  I try to smile, but it's just not happening.  I feel only pity for him, as a heavy tear rolls down his cheek.  I quickly wipe it away for him and wish I could reach across and hold him tight.  I wish I could give him everything he so desperately needs, but I can't.  I can't...because I've already taken it all away and left him behind to fend for himself.  He is what he is and I'm guilty of turning him into what he will, now, always be...a very, very unhappy and lonely old man.


© Tanza 2011


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