Saturday, April 23, 2011

"Anyone who ever played a part / Never turned around and hated it"

My melodramatic side has been getting a bit out of hand lately; that's what you get when you don't post enough, I suppose. The latest episode occurred when all someone did was ask me my name. The act of repeating those familiar syllables, as I've done innumerable times, in many places and at many stages of life, for some reason made me pause on the inside and begin one of my inner monologues. While these soliloquies may sometimes seem amusing in hindsight, this time, believe me, even I was struck by how odd it was. What I was thinking was, roughly, as follows: I can recall a time when I knew the person who used that name and earned everything that was associated with it. But these days, I don't know what it means to use that name anymore. Certainly none of my past accomplishments or adventures count for anything to those I encounter. My past may well have never existed, then; but even more than that, there is this nagging belief that somehow, this is all a dream that I can someday wake up from and resume the life that seems most familiar. It feels like a tragedy that gets renewed every day, even though each morning I rise and have some desperate hope that somehow it has all been called off, and I am free to resume reality. Who am I even performing for anymore? I used to have stakes to fight for, to hold on for, no matter how slight or ephemeral. Now I just have crumbling memories, and a deepening sense of doubt.

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