All The Word's a Stage

It all begins, with simple a phrase from one of William Shakespeare infamous Monologues, As You Like It.
A simple phrase. One line, five words with such a deep meaning. Too deep - you cant bare the idea that it is so real and it happens all the time in life.

"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts".....-Jaques (Act II, Scene VII, lines 139-166)

I may not be Shakespeare's number one fan. But i adore his works, his arts and all the beauty and pain of life he reflected from them.
As the phrase goes echoing in my head over and over again. It repeats constantly and continuously - uncontrollable, almost feel like i'm breathing with it. My mind goes to a different direction. -They say, you make the most essence of life from you surroundings. Get inspired by nature, people, feelings, music, books, paintings, rhythms, patterns, lights, births, deaths and everything else as seen or even unseen- Did Shakespeare make this one out of his curiosity? Did he make it of the man he dislike? Did he make it out of his adoration?

"All The World's a Stage" i keep repeating it in my head, as the phrase means too much for me. It sucks the soul of me, almost feels like i'm breathing the pain in and out. I once knew a man who played so many acts. I once dragged by the play. He promised me the Moon and buy me the Sun, dance in the sky and sing in the rain. Not so long after, all i saw were clouds. hundreds different men put in him. Changed his play ; role; scene and act numerous of time. It was like running in a fast track, you have to get up even before you stumble, yet you stumble all the time along the way.

It was so painful coping up with all the acts. Your legs bruised, your toes bleed, your heart ached, your tears dropped. You still have to put on you best smile on your face. Then really - All The World's a Stage. The phrase become so true, and real. Once you get out of one play, you'll jump into another one. endlessly. Met a man seemed so true, but in the end.. the trueness in him was just another one of his plays.

When there really is no 'you' but 'i'. I have my plays, coping with your plays. I'll play pretend to be blind, and lost all my senses. When the truth is, i sense everything.