Cries from Hollywood

My feature film debuts soon. Maybe I will be alive when it releases.
My character is not who I really am, but it is who I want to be;at least for a time.
The attention I receive snatches at my soul, as if I have no control.
Everybody knows me. Flashes from the carpet, second and third efforts to make a name for myself, leaves me blinded and unable to see; this I know. Maybe I will make it. But, Wine will be near because it makes me alive.

I think I know what to do. Who am I? I am an actor, perhaps you are not.
But, I like to laugh, like you. I like to paint too. As I look at my palms, each line is art to me. There is always something I feel I can't see. You don't understand; money is not the problem. Should I spend on you? Maybe you don't know me.
I am not a robot; my feelings are for all.
Remembrance comes natural as it is what I do. Maybe it covers how I feel right now? My reflection seems different than yesterday's.

Please don't solve the problem I do not have. Standing is easy; it is the walking thats not.
I miss the laugh; the one that you have. I don't do much anymore.
I sit here and wait; no one has called back. Eyes are jaded, can you see?
Hearts are beautiful when they beat fast. I am not sick, though I may need your help.
I am for all to see, but keep this discreet. I love to pretend, but now I am not.
Remembrance comes natural as it is what I do. Not at all. Not at all.
I do not remember you. I am faced with myself. What do I do?
Will you remember me? Take my eyes to show the world.
Where I am going, I do not know. But, maybe I will make it.