Loss of Self

I don’t see acting with fear
but with longing.

I feel more comfortable on stage,
Living in someone else’s role
Standing on the spotlight as you
Hoarding away oneself
As deep as I can.

Because off stage is the hardest.
I feel uncomfortable with the unscripted plays
It is confusing enough to figure out my role in society,
my blocking in reality, and my characters in real life.

I am lost.
Isolated from oneself.

And this separateness perpetuates unnecessary suffering.

Therefore, I go back on stage.
Acting every scene with both passion and hatred
Detached and define another me

Reality is the hardest
Full of ironies and bereavements, too dramatic.
Aloof from real emotions, too fictional.
Restrained exploration of oneself, too restrained.

Reality is the hardest
Compulsion for normative sense
And tamed feelings for social recognition;
They make me feel useless

I feel uninterrupted anguish at my own uselessness

Therefore, I go back on stage.
Acting every scene freely
Legally expressing all kind of thoughts

I am longing for the art of acting
It is my personal way to escape the daily torture of my existence.

My sanctuary.