My movie

Events played like scenes, part after part, chapter after chapter in an endless sequence. Each chapter reveals a new sense of character, judgment, and demeanor but restraining the invasion becomes a daily struggle.

The audience sits and watches, all eyes open in anticipation, expectation sprinkled with pressure weighing on the cast.

Perfect looks, hair, and face without fault and blemish. Flawless indeed but also indeed tiresome. Pretense in some form of elegance. Restricted to a script, a part to be played with precision and grace, and at the backstage our bodies are heavy with exhaustion.

Our minds are filled with people's thoughts, and doubts to construct ourselves to their liking and taste but in the end, they don't appreciate the best we offer.

They scream in distaste and hate of our efforts and as actors, we accept criticisms never looking bad. Never to be given a thank you or a voice and that is all we desire silently in our heart.

Never to show the world this fragility we carry endlessly in our chests. Hand in hand backstage standing behind the veil of red velvet sheets exposing little glimpsing from the mean expectant crowd.

Our hearts panting against our chests waiting for the curtain to part away casting the spotlight on us as this has been our life, day after day, second after second of absolute discreet as the cast of perfection in my movie.