Work Text:
Death isn't acceptable so Ill live. Ill live for my audience, my friends. Afterall the death of a performer is a lack of an audience and the lack of audience is caused by bored. The true enemy of a performer is boredom.
I love my performances, after all, they're all I've ever known. To perform is to breathe, to dance is to move, to act is to sense. If i were to stop... what would the spectators think..?
To rest... it is a foreign concept. This performer will bleed stage with life and so shall perform the act of resting on the tinted spotlight they find comfort in and the stage they call their home.
My audience will experience sloth and passion. They will feel the ripples of emotion and will sleep, content at my performance. They will bless me with their vulnerability and the performer will accept it with delight. Any reactions is a good reaction. To react is to be entertained.
The different masks wear me thin. A personality... do i know what it is? no, rather, do i have one? I have a role, yes, I have character, yes, but do i have a personality? What are these masks? When did they even appear? perhaps they've been with me ever since i stepped into the theatre, maybe they only appeared when i lost what i thought I was.
Nonetheless, Ill merge these masks together. They'll become an amalgamation of emotion. Then ill wear the most beautiful masks of all. The masks I've come to know as myself. A performer's masks are an expression of themselves, their role and, their character. without a performer, masks are no more and without masks, a performer is a blank slate.