The Final Curtain Fall

By Mia Miriam Sojan

I am an actor and my life is my performance. Each day I step onto the stage I battered with the imprints of self-expectation, adorned with the myriad colours of the roles I play - of a caring friend, dutiful daughter and that of a responsible student. With each passing day, I struggle to balance the intricate facade of what others see, from that of me beneath the mask I slip into on my way to school. I thought I could pull it off, this new act, and a new school environment was the audience I needed.

I lie with such skill; every lie seems truthful. To others I wear my heart on my sleeve. But only within the caged ribs I enclose it in, shut away from others, does my heart know I am not who I appear to be. Each character I embody feels like a costume, delicately crafted to seem favourable to the audience in front of me, but sometimes I feel breathless and everything becomes suffocating. I smile and laugh then, like they’d want a friend to, offering expert opinion on why pink suits her better than red and why he should stop biting his nails, all the while the burden of being the hated one buckles my knees.

After a day’s work, I carry home my hard-earned honour of being beloved by all, to where nobody seems interested in knowing the fruition of my endless nights of small-talk rehearsals and controlled laughing mannerisms. Behind closed doors, the spotlight fades, and the applause dies down. I confront the quiet moments, crying, hating myself for being the hypocrite I call out my friends for being and when my eyes blur with the tears of exhaustion, I wonder, which of these characters is me. The pressure to be perfect in every way haunts me like the quiet of a restless night, howling the fear of being a failure in corners of my mind. 

My performance isn’t rewardless though, I experience fleeting moments of authenticity when I laugh till I genuinely cry and my friends join in making the already funny joke funnier and funnier or when those I truly love finally see through the façade I put on and offer their unconditional support without shunning me for who I’m acting to be. It’s in those rare instances that I feel the thrill of being truly seen, the curtain rising just enough to reveal a part of me beneath. I hope to someday smear the blues and greys revealing my true self to the ones to care to stay. Perhaps my final act should be one of courage before the final curtain fall.

By Mia Miriam Sojan