the Show Must go On

I love my theatre class. When I'm there, I feel like things don't matter. I'm not concerned about my future. Or how much money isn't in my bank account. I don't think about my lists of things to do for the day, or what to cook for dinner. I forget that so and so never called, and that I need to find out how what's-her-face is doing. I'm unconcerned with my weight and how much gas I have in my car to get me home... I'm just there. In the studio that used to be a middle school gymnasium. I am the script in front of me. The lines are my words. The painted in expressions, my own natural reactions... and life makes sense because those others sitting behind me, next to me, to my right and left, live and believe in the same scripted reality. I would liken it to disappearing into a novel, only more pleasant because the reality of living the story is more than a fabrication in the minds eye. The words, with the lights, the stage, the set... like a magic potion melts my me. Melts my worry, my fret, my questions, and neglected answers. To be a thespian is a wonderful thing. My small world has found one more safety corner. Oh to be a thespian is quite a wonderful thing.