A guide to

The walls were pink plastic like cheap 80s motels, but I knew they were older and more distinguished than I. The evening had provided revival of jokes left open for months, and I wanted nothing more than to drown any apprehensions I had about life in my overpriced Stella, and hide out silently making judgements in the new Woody Allen movie. But first was a greater piece on the agenda, a stop by the bathroom.

After a quick look around, the rotting tiles and seafoam tint reminded me that no matter how much my ticket cost, this was a dying medium, and I was soon going to be lost in the remembrances that once was my better and less confusing years.

It was clear what I was. That red-faced girl in the bathroom, carefully balancing her third beer atop the clogged sink that she decided not to bother with. Details were never too important, and it had been her fascination with the bigger picture of even the decision of snacks at the concession stand that often left her static and polarized in even the most simple of decisions.

Viewing people as one collective thought made it difficult for her to sympathize with man, and it was only when characters were seen from their individual stories that she could see people for more than a vast bunch of soul-less clones. That is why Woody Allen never failed to please, or surprise the increasingly-cynical girl, with all of her pasts to be forgotten.

It seemed everyday she made new promises to herself to move on and not voice regret, but in everything she did, her past was mirrored. But for now, it was time to sit still and focus on the paths of other characters, in hopes of finding justifications of her own past actions and how they could work to make her a stronger person in time.

But it's difficult once the strings are cut and her legs can't hold her for very long.

And deep down she couldn't have the heart but to wonder if this was even her stage or her screenplay anymore.