Friday, 14 December 2018

I am a puppeteer

I am a puppeteer. But instead of puppets, I make several versions of myself and I dress them up for a show. In every crowd, I wore a different face. 

I have mastered the art of craftsmanship so it bothers me so deeply to be an outcast. I am watching my own show but somebody else was in control. They took me, and the version I presented to the public, and made a mockery out of it. They forced me to wear a mask I do not recognize, a face I did not choose, in a body I did not create. And they put me on stage without a script, without even a microphone. I scream and I shout for attention but no one can hear me. I am unfamiliar with my own stage.

For the first time, I do not direct the spotlight. I am unseen in my own monologue, standing cold in a dark empty stage. 

A few stood by but they only watched me as I made a fool out of myself. I am a child of the theatre but  I was robbed of an opportunity to be heard. I carry the most colorful story within my pocket but no one would listen. No one could understand. 

Convinced that I am hopeless, I step down. I gather whatever's left of my pride and I make a run for it. I hear the distant laughter but I don't look back. I needed to disappear.

I wake up from the same dream over and over and I remember. I remember because it's the closest to my reality. The pain of enduring humiliation haunts me to this day. I am a storyteller deprived of the chance to tell my story, to tell my side of the story. Unfortunately, this not only lost me my pride, it lost me my crowd.


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