I force myself to put on an act. The public is my stage and my friends, my family, my coworkers you are all my audience. I put on this show, I make you laugh, I leave an impression, and I mirror the same emotions. The curtains roll and I return from the show. This is when the real show begins. It is exhausting putting on this act. Because when I get home and fall into bed there is no stage and there is no audience. All that is left is me. And it is not quite entertaining when it is just me in my head. Because when it is just me in my head it is only the truth.
I suffer from this truth.
1 comment
I had this same thought the other day, but I managed to put a positive spin on it. Maybe this will work for you too. We should feel lucky that we get the opportunity to put on an act. Imagine if your entire life was just that empty void you described when you come home. Being the clown, the life of the party, the fake smiling person, at least that’s a break from the infinite misery of our true selves. So even though it’s an effort and it seems pointless to act normal for others, it’s sort of like a prisoner getting to go out in the daylight for a brief while. The prison will be there waiting when we get back, but at least we got a short break.