I think all of us ended up there without wanting to.
But isn't this what drama's about? Putting yourself out there.
It's freeing, it's crazy, it's what makes it so lovable.
Today however didn't feel that way.
It was intrusive. I was invading my own mind, ripping out what tissues were put in place to stem leakages. I was the one to make it visible, the blockage from long ago.
A burst artery, a faulty lamp.
The thing is I never feel like the 'most painful experience' I was told to share was important. I didn't want it told. Truth is, acting is about freedom. And freedom is about choice. And choosing to empathize with characters and portraying them in your own unique way so as to send your very own message is what makes acting so truthful, ironic as it is.
Getting emotional on stage is a skill; being a character onstage is.
Being yourself just isn't.
It's not just about being exposed and naked and vulnerable and weak.
It's not about the judgment or what people would think because this is a wonderful group of people who completely supports you.
It's that you really didn't want to go back there.
It's over and done with. You yourself are sick of it.
You're fine now, and it's not a lie.
But digging and rummaging through your own drawers to find that one shattered symbol you are so careful about, yanking it out of its bandages, holding it up for everyone to see like its a trophy...
That was what was so difficult.
Because being a character to you has never been an experience whereby you had to snip open old wounds so as to use the emotions like tools.
You're not against those who do; you think it a brilliant skill.
You admire them for it, but you know you would never do it.
Never have, for characters have their own shit to deal with and your own junk- and you mean you, I, me, myself, this individual- feels like a terrible thing to remember, and exploiting that weakness yourself was what was more painful than the experience was to think back upon.
To recount is worse than recalling is what I'm saying.
Talking about emotions is just about the most fragile vase out there; you don't know the type of water and the organisms thriving in it before you tip it over and watch it crash, crack your toenail and feel the red moisture seep out beneath the jagged edges.
It was so not easy getting into it- You were in such a good mood, too.
Then all of a sudden it wasn't difficult thinking back anymore; It was trying to get out.
It was so not easy getting into it- You were in such a good mood, too.
Then all of a sudden it wasn't difficult thinking back anymore; It was trying to get out.
I guess what I'm saying is that I'm in a much, much better place now.
That I haven't forgiven and crying from something I don't respect humiliated me, that I was the one who poked and pried, who displayed what I most didn't want seen.
That maybe this doesn't make me a worthy actress,
That I choose to act through other methods because I'm me,
That I really, really didn't want to cry.
Or think about it again. Or indulge. Or phrase it.
Not anymore,
Not about something I don't want to acknowledge.
Because I don't like talking, not that much. And listening really is much more interesting.
I did get to understand them more though, so that was a plus.
What I didn't say, was that empathy happens only when you care enough,
That this was a different type of comfort zone I stepped out of,
That sometimes, once you start crying there's a part of you that curls up and sobs
That it isn't exactly the easiest thing out there to stop it.
That you really are happy now, that it isn't a lie.
Some things just require more time.
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