There is always a breaking point. There is always a point in the tour of life where you just cannot go on - where whatever show you put on is seen as the farce it is.
It might not be outsiders who see it clearly. Maybe you are a consummate actress and so they think you're doing just swell. However you no longer fool yourself. The feigned strength is just a system of pulleys and rope you concocted out of the scrap of your life. But the rope is thin now. The pulleys stick.
You look out over the play and see the story just repeats itself. How many excuses can you make for this? How many rationalizations? You are such a rhetorician you can argue any point from any angle, but it's not enough. Smoke and mirrors are illusion, and reality must be addressed.
No make up. No witty one liners. No song. No dance. No flowing costumes or well designed sets.
This is life baby. This is where you cannot ignore your breaking heart, your festering wounds, your empty accounts. This is where the best plans are laid waste by an anxious fool too myopic to see how his actions impact those around him. This is where you cannot wait around for someone else to do the hard thing.
There is no one else.
There is only you.
You do the hard thing.
You fix yourself.