Encroaching Prelude

Focus was my new best and only friend. It was probably the only hope I had of getting through all of this without falling apart into some kind of mania for an entire fanbase to meme and slander on the silver screen. 

Acting was already hard enough on its own, all those lights, all those shines, the million pairs of eyes and their iron-scorching stares whittling away at your psyche waiting to see if you're gonna flub your lines so they can point and laugh at you like the walking, talking epitome of embarrassment you know you are. 

An exaggeration? Fine, maybe. But my point still stands—pretending to be someone you're not, and worse, failing at that would certainly be one of those moments you mull about sleeplessly deep in the dead of night. 

And now, thanks to a certain doting devil's meddling, my chances of acute insomnia just skyrocketed to a near absolute guarantee.