PARTS
Reflecting on where it all started…
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There are some of us who thrive outside our comfort zones. Drawn beyond the edge of unrest, smiling as we switch on each new face, peering around the corner for the next high.
We don’t do this because we have a death wish, masochistic desires, or a need for destruction. We do this because we know that as soon as we step back into that comfort zone, it's over.
We love in the chaos, we bow in the celebrations, we're curious in the light, we’re alive in the dark… And we die in the middle
Some of the lucky ones find each other, drawn together by the sensation that history is watching us, stepping into our time. An ensemble of the lost, fitting nowhere else, we embrace our roles, aware of the inevitable end. But it's this moment that matters. The script is clear. The characters well-defined. No matter how good or bad, this is our scene. Destiny can wait.
So aware, we embrace the unfolding of our story. So focused, we author our memories. So present, all other worlds disappear. Feeding off each other's lines, we find the dance that makes us feel alive. This time on stage, shared with the others, allows us to be ourselves, even while acting beneath the masks we were given.
The dreamers, the jokers, the lovers, the cheaters, and the brokenhearted.
These are the parts we play.
And play them we did. Each of us taking our turn stepping into the characters of a lifetime. Picking up pieces of a persona that we would carry forever. This was the time of our lives, and we know it. The world was our stage and we braced it.
In our roles, we found our voices in youth’s rebellious spirit, and the allure of what could be. We danced in the spotlight, our energy infectious, yet we also learned to navigate the shadows, our whispers stirring the quiet darkness in those who wanted to hold us back. These characters, jubilant and haunting, mirrored our self-discovery and the celebration us becoming ourselves. With each line recited, each persona embraced, we found pieces of ourselves in the spotlight. And we held on to those that moved the audience.
We gave it our all, until the curtain call. But There was no rapturous applause, no roses thrown… only silence. Each one of us, stepped out of the spotlight, one by one, into the next role. For some of us the method acting became too real, never breaking character, just ourselves. Maybe I played my role too big. Or even too small. I played what I could given the script that was handed to me.
I still go back to that theater in my mind. Staying on that stage, listening and watching to the echoes of that time that once was. Where the lights shined bright. Where the scripted became improv. Where happenstance turned into the inevitable. But I stand alone looking out into an empty auditorium. Replaying my part, rehearsing who I could've been, hoping for a different ending. I hold the director’s notes watching the ghost of the others. I perform with the motives of now, written with the wish I would. Turning to the others in an attempt to give support to chances gone. In hopes as they fade away, they know what we had. That it was real, that it was liberating, and yes at times, regretful.
In the end we found ourselves playing all the parts in the monologues of our lives. Pulling from our stage experience. We know the craft and we know our lines. And no matter if a comedy, a drama, or a tragedy… we are stars… we are thespians… characters that dared to play.
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