Social.

Every night feels like opening night and I am the leading role,

‘Tonight, I’ll be doing a convincing portrayal of an extrovert (again)’.

I became a method actor, wearing the title like a badge of honour,

attempting to coax a new personality into my life to use as my own.

 

I can’t stay in character anymore.

 

I’ve worn the costume every day hoping it would become my second skin;

twenty-three years in and it isn’t working.

I am slowly realising that maybe it isn’t my colour,

tones of people could sell the performance but I am out of stock.

I can’t do it justice anymore – every night I dread putting it on,

tired of convincing other people that I love it,

spinning them lie after lie, stitches that keep these pieces together.

 

I’m starting to hope my costume falls apart, actively looking for frays,

stitches I can pull apart, shredding the illusion I created for the public.

As it falls away I have visions of my new costume,

one lighter on my frame, more fitted to the figure I’ve grown to be:

the introvert, a new supporting character!

I won’t always steal the show but I don’t want that anymore,

people might not think I’m the leading role but I’ll still be mine.

 

-A.Webb (second draft)

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