MAKING A MESS OF THINGS | ACT 1 |

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Her name is Cassandra Nova. Depending on who you ask, she might be the next big household name. She's a 26 year old performer, a goddess on the stage, and there's nothing she fears more than being famous.

Her smile fades away as the eyes of her lover burrow into her tortured soul. "I can't do this anymore." She sighs and buries her head in her arms.

"Why, my love?"

"This life..." She picks herself up and looks him in the eyes. "It's torture; the manager, directors, producers, they..." She averts her gaze and searches through her heart for the right words. "They want..." her eyes dart back to him and she utters, "everything."

"But, my love, you are everything"

She scoffs. "You always say that."

"Only because it's true." He holds his heart and looks down. "When you're like this..." he looks back at her, "it hurts me."

"Why? This is my life."

"This is our life, my love, our life."

"No! They want me, they don't want you!"

He looks down again. "How could you say that?"

For a moment, she feels a pang of guilt in her heart, but her rage drowns it out. "I'm so beautiful, so grand, so wanted; I can't go outside in this town without being looked at dreamily by fans who don't know me. You act like you want this future, but you have no idea what it's like to be looked at by everyone like they're hungry." She winces and covers her face. "I can't take it; stop acting like you want it, like it's the only thing in the world that will make you happy..." Her whole body shakes, she rips her hands off her face, and yells, "I'm supposed to make you happy!"

"My love, you-"

She covers her face again as tears stream from her eyes.

"I can't..." His voice trembles as he finds his strength. "We need to talk another time, you're not right in the head, and I'm-" He pauses breathlessly for a moment. "I have to go."

He jolts out of his chair, snatches his coat, then runs for the door and slams it behind him as he disappears into the night. She fights her sobbing, stands up, and runs after him; when she reaches the door, she looks out and sees him flouncing down the hall. "Where are you going?" she chokes out.

"I need space!"

"What will I do?"

"You're famous, you'll be fine!"

"But, I'm not..." She stops yelling as he turns and disappears out of sight. "I'm not famous and I'm not fine," she mutters. She keeps going like this as she staggers into her room. "I'm not famous, I'm not fine; I'm not famous, I'm not fine..." She sits down on the couch and loses control of her tears; ugly, moaning sobs ring out and penetrate the walls of the hotel.

I need to hide, she thinks, I need to go somewhere far away and...what's the use? This is my life, there's no way out, and I'm doomed. No, I'm damned, I'm cursed, and...this is my life. This is my life. This is MY life. She stands up. "I know what I have to do," she says to no one, then looks around awkwardly and sits back down. I guess there's nowhere I need to go right now, but still...I'm motivated and I'm ready to move.

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