the edge

I've heard it said that you've got your whole life ahead of you. Though all of a sudden, the rest of the crew has surged forward to center stage and I'm left standing alone in the back, trying to remember which foot is supposed to move where and wondering whether its worth it to try to catch up, or if it would be better just to run off stage and console myself over a basket of greasy fries in the cafeteria.

Of course, there remains the question of whether or not its really worth smothering my face in cooking oil when the zits start popping up. All of a sudden, center stage seven beats behind doesn't seem like such a bad option after all.
On the other hand, there remains the problem of trying to do something I was never cut out for in the first place. Turns out that during rehearsals, my mind was on the fryalator the entire time.

However, I am worried that if I don't do something, I will spend my entire life wondering who it was that put the toliet paper roll on backwards before realizing the only person it could have been was myself, then analyzing the whys and whatfors of backwards toliet paper for the rest of a wonderful evening with only myself and my basket of pimples for company.