Home » P.rogessive O.riginal E.piphanies of M.e » The Performance of our Lives

The Performance of our Lives

As women, even as humans, we never want to admit our problems, our mistakes or our vulnerabilities. For the sake of saving face or not looking weak. But at some point in time we must give up the cover story and let someone know about the dramatic depiction of the life we live.

Her life is a movie. The type you can’t help but to watch. Not like the ones that are romantic and heart-warming. But the type you watch because her heartbreak is comforting. Because you can relate to her dilemmas and frustration. And you understand why she feels so defeated, beaten down and you wish you could give her the answer. How badly you want to help the underdog, the innocent protagonist. But of course, you can’t.

The same way you can’t understand the answers to your own questions, you can’t answer hers either because her life is on a screen. She can’t hear you, no matter how loud you scream. The screen always interrupts your heroic attempts. And you are left helpless to watch knowingly. And I am left to act out my life’s role unknowning and vulnerable.

Wait, did I say I. My mistake. When I say I, of course I mean her. Because if I admit it’s me and my life, that makes it too real for me. Then I need to admit my unhappiness and my anger. Even more my sadness… And after admission, I’m expected to face my problems and deal with them. But this I, isn’t ready for that.

There’s just too much tied to the word I, so just read on without getting  connected to me. Just remember her. Remember her film. Her story. Her face, her tears, her nights feeling alone and broken. Without anyone real to talk to, only other actors. Giving her empty emotions while reciting lines from a script. It’s all an act.

But I can’t seem to escape it. I want happiness and love and security. But all those things seem to run in the opposite direction away from me. And I can’t understand why. I pray for it and wait but it just never seems to work…

As much as I want it to be all about her, it’s really about me. I guess it’s time to face fact and let go of the charade. I can deny it no longer. So, world, the girl on the screen is me. Unguarded – open – a little broken, but ready to work on my problems.

The first and most important one, being me.

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