Torn in two.

Shakespeare version: from The Merchant of Venice Act II Scene ii, Lines 1-31


LAUNCELOT
I'm sure I'll feel guilty if I run away from this Jew, my master. The devil's on my shoulder, tempting me. He's saying, “Gobbo,” “Launcelot Gobbo,” “Good Launcelot,” or “Good Gobbo,” or “Good Launcelot Gobbo”—“use your legs and run away.” But my conscience says, “No, Launcelot, calm down, don't run away.” The devil's urging me to leave. “Go away!” he says. “Run away! Be tough,” says the devil, “and run!” But then my conscience, hanging around my heart, says very wisely to me, “My good friend Launcelot, you're a good boy, the son of an honest man,” really, that should be the son of an honest woman, since my father cheated on my mother. Anyway, my conscience says, “Stay put.” “Go,” the devil says. “Don't go,” says my conscience. “Conscience,” I say, “you give good advice.” “Devil,” I say, “you give good advice.” If I listened to my conscience, I'd stay with the Jew my master, who's a devil. But if I ran away from the Jew, I'd be following the advice of the devil, who's the very devil himself. Certainly the Jew is the devil incarnate, and my conscience is giving me a hard time by telling me to stay with the Jew. The devil's advice is nicer. I'll run, devil. Tell me to run, and I'll run.

My Version:

I stare up at the yellow and red bars of metal, winding there way through the dark sky in curves and deathly loops. The rumbling gets louder, and louder, and louder. It shakes the ground beneath my feat. sending more nervous vibes through my veins. My brain tells me no, "Caitlin, don't get on that roller coaster! Do you really want to risk getting sick, or worse, falling out of your seat, falling from the sky, and going *kerspalt*?" My brain has a point, do way do I want that. But my friends tell me go. "C'mon, you gotta do it. We're all going too. Nobodies going to dieeee." Wow, that's reassuring. "Don't even think about," says my brain. "Go for it," say my friends. "Don't ride it" "Ride it" "you're going to regret going on" Maybe I will. "you're going to regret staying off" I know I will. You're right, my friends, I have to live in the moment, take chances, ride into the unknown, literally.The ketchup and mustard color carts come rolling to a halt, and we stand at the front of the line. "You know you want to," say my friends. And I do. I get on.