Ever have one of those days?
Anybody got a pick me upper lying around? **sighs**
At the store, my mind is awhirl--am I doing this all wrong; am I destroying my family? We knew it would likely be this way the day I chose to take the part of Sam; we knew it would get tougher as each movie was released, as Elijah's and my roles were fully exploited by the studio--we're the two name American stars in the picture; Liv too, but somehow she seems to be outside all their fury, risng above it as the butterfly that she is. Me, I'm stuck in the mud, getting swallowed, it feels like. And poor Chris, Ali, and Liz are all there stuck with me.
I can blame it on NewLine, on the added pressure they're putting on me since they can't trust Dom and Elijah, or I guess now Orlando as well; I hope they just don't find what Bean's been up to as well. I can blame it on the holiday season; everybody seems to be going mad. But I know who's fault all of this is. It's mine. I'm overambitious; I want everything, between this and new projects with Showtime and my charities and SAG. So it's completely my fault, what's happening to us. I don't know how to prioritize; everything feels equally important, from my friends to signings with fans. I don't know how to say no to any of it.
I want somewhere to break down and cry. But I know I won't. I'm Mr. Perfect, right? Mr.'He's the Stable One, the One Who's Got it All Together.' If one of us isn't stable, where does that leave the rest of us? I just hope to God Dom and Elijah don't get into any fights this week. I don't think I can handle it.
Holding Ali's hand as we go up to the checkout counter for the milk, I plaster on my fake smile for the checkout lady, inwardly cringing when she immediately recognizes me.
"Sam!" she says, laughing, running through the milk and diapers (I figure we *always* need diapers).
"Yep," I say, giving my polite fan smile, trying to keep Ali away from the candy baskets. We settle on one candy bar just to keep her happy.
"Such the daddy, huh?" the checkout lady says, taking my cash and returning the change.
"Always," I say, feeling like I'm breaking inside. Yeah, such the daddy he's never home any more.
"Have a good day," she says and hands me my receipt. I say the same to her, and escape, out to the parking lot, nearly dragging poor Ali behind me. I wait for accusing words from her, but she's silent, watching me with her big dark eyes. I feel ten times worse.
"Fasten your seat belt, darling."
"It is, Daddy. Are you and Mommy going to fight some more?"
"We're not--" I sigh; she hasn't seen a real fight between us; we're both too good at hiding things, of burying them. "I hope not, honey. We're just having a bad day."
"Me too," Ali say, grabbing her Barbie again, pulling on its hair.
I lean my head on the steering wheel a moment, before I gather up the courage to return home, knowing that nothing's going to get any better any time soon.
At the store, my mind is awhirl--am I doing this all wrong; am I destroying my family? We knew it would likely be this way the day I chose to take the part of Sam; we knew it would get tougher as each movie was released, as Elijah's and my roles were fully exploited by the studio--we're the two name American stars in the picture; Liv too, but somehow she seems to be outside all their fury, risng above it as the butterfly that she is. Me, I'm stuck in the mud, getting swallowed, it feels like. And poor Chris, Ali, and Liz are all there stuck with me.
I can blame it on NewLine, on the added pressure they're putting on me since they can't trust Dom and Elijah, or I guess now Orlando as well; I hope they just don't find what Bean's been up to as well. I can blame it on the holiday season; everybody seems to be going mad. But I know who's fault all of this is. It's mine. I'm overambitious; I want everything, between this and new projects with Showtime and my charities and SAG. So it's completely my fault, what's happening to us. I don't know how to prioritize; everything feels equally important, from my friends to signings with fans. I don't know how to say no to any of it.
I want somewhere to break down and cry. But I know I won't. I'm Mr. Perfect, right? Mr.'He's the Stable One, the One Who's Got it All Together.' If one of us isn't stable, where does that leave the rest of us? I just hope to God Dom and Elijah don't get into any fights this week. I don't think I can handle it.
Holding Ali's hand as we go up to the checkout counter for the milk, I plaster on my fake smile for the checkout lady, inwardly cringing when she immediately recognizes me.
"Sam!" she says, laughing, running through the milk and diapers (I figure we *always* need diapers).
"Yep," I say, giving my polite fan smile, trying to keep Ali away from the candy baskets. We settle on one candy bar just to keep her happy.
"Such the daddy, huh?" the checkout lady says, taking my cash and returning the change.
"Always," I say, feeling like I'm breaking inside. Yeah, such the daddy he's never home any more.
"Have a good day," she says and hands me my receipt. I say the same to her, and escape, out to the parking lot, nearly dragging poor Ali behind me. I wait for accusing words from her, but she's silent, watching me with her big dark eyes. I feel ten times worse.
"Fasten your seat belt, darling."
"It is, Daddy. Are you and Mommy going to fight some more?"
"We're not--" I sigh; she hasn't seen a real fight between us; we're both too good at hiding things, of burying them. "I hope not, honey. We're just having a bad day."
"Me too," Ali say, grabbing her Barbie again, pulling on its hair.
I lean my head on the steering wheel a moment, before I gather up the courage to return home, knowing that nothing's going to get any better any time soon.