ὑπόκρισις (hypokrisis)

I love acting. Granted, I know I'm not the best, and perhaps one can say what talent I do have springs from my love of literature, not actual understanding of the art itself. I, however, think I'm merely empathetic. I may not know how to perform a character's life, but I often find myself knowing exactly why they do what they do and say what they say.

I could leave it at that. But if I introspect a little farther (as I often do) I realize I enjoy being something I'm not. I like the feel of living in someone else's skin. Maybe it sounds like a glamorous vacation, becoming another person for a little while. But I see it as a sheltering escape. Finally, I'm no longer me. I can be someone who charms, entertains, and captivates. For a few blissful moments, I don't have to deal with reality. Which is nice, because reality generally isn't.

I went home last weekend for Fall Break. I saw my old places, my favorite roads, my coffee spots. I got together with friends, family, and teachers. I saw all the people who made me who I was back in August headed toward the University. Those who, up until that moment in my life, had the greatest influence on me, who poured their lives into mine, giving me exactly what I needed to accomplish everything, come back, and glory with them in my success.

I felt as though I had let them down.

Considering all I came to college with, I'm quite the failure. I'm a bad daughter, granddaughter, and sister who doesn't pick up the phone or email enough. I'm the bad friend who forgets birthdays. I'm still the same student who can't be disciplined enough to not procrastinate or be late for class. And I'm still the same Christian who finds herself in constant need of grace and the humility to accept it.

But this weekend, months since my last stint as an actress, I was on stage again. The audience was unaware. They think I have everything together, that I'm a great success and the University is lucky that other school didn't snatch me up. After returning to campus on Tuesday, I have yet to stop. I'm still playing out the character, finding very few who see through the act or care to look for the reasons behind it.

It's exhausting being what I am not, but it's disheartening being what I am.

So what, so I've got a smile on
But It's hiding the quiet superstitions in my head
Don't believe me
Don't believe me
When I say I've got it down
Am I living it right?
Why, why Georgia why?