We bar the door to life from both sides,
duplicitously dispatching our hopes and
dreams, then lamenting their absence.
Bemoaning life’s trials and niggling
vexations, we bury our heads in the
sandbox of soap opera story-lines:
criticising characters for following scripted
scenes, we neglect to examine ourselves.
The love lives and wardrobes of actors
appear in the headlines. Scorning such
adulation, we concede we’d settle for
appreciation, or even plain old
acceptance. Finding none from without
or within, we secure the bars, close the
circuit, and settle back to watch our
would-be selves on the small screen.


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