Not just what you beautifully described in this post, but everything.
I don't find anything besides performance. Even this sentence I wrote is another performance: the one who gets it, the one who loses it, the one who contradicts himself. As long as there's "the one", there's performance.
Yes, I think that’s the heart of it. There’s a difference between performance that protects identity and expression that moves without trying to get anything. But even then, the moment anything is expressed, it puts on the suit of the character. There’s no way around that. The question is just whether it’s being believed in or used to hide. When it’s not, even the suit is empty.
sometimes i feel trapped in myself, almost sick seeing i'm doing nothing but performing. but mostly i forget about this and keep being 'special'. funny how the same thing can feel enjoyable and sickly at different times
"What is still performing in you?"
Not just what you beautifully described in this post, but everything.
I don't find anything besides performance. Even this sentence I wrote is another performance: the one who gets it, the one who loses it, the one who contradicts himself. As long as there's "the one", there's performance.
Yes, I think that’s the heart of it. There’s a difference between performance that protects identity and expression that moves without trying to get anything. But even then, the moment anything is expressed, it puts on the suit of the character. There’s no way around that. The question is just whether it’s being believed in or used to hide. When it’s not, even the suit is empty.
Ohh yes caught once again in the elation of apparent ‘freedom’ thank you for this again!
such refreshing honesty
sometimes i feel trapped in myself, almost sick seeing i'm doing nothing but performing. but mostly i forget about this and keep being 'special'. funny how the same thing can feel enjoyable and sickly at different times