“Oh, Nevermind. I’m Just Whining Again.”

I’m deep. I’m so deep. I’m so fucking deep. What does "deep" even mean anymore? Just that you don’t understand me. You never have. I’m growing angry.

There was a passage I was reading from George Orwell called, Shooting An Elephant. In it he says, "[The white man] wears a mask, and his face grows to fit it." Whether or not a person is white, I think the phrase can be applied to most people. Or everyone. I’m a daughter, a friend, a best friend, an aquaintance, an admirer, admired, a sister, a student, a grandaughter, a mystery, an actress, a designer, an ex girlfriend, a secret, a woman. I am so many things, I cannot list them all. It is now that I feel myself trying to escape and start over again. Make a life that I chose, not one that was given to me. Everyone goes through this, I know. Or wants to. But how many actually see it through? Those who manage are sometimes frowned upon…throwing away thier old lives and creating a world where they best fit in. It is unfair to the rest of us. The ones left behind to replay someone else’s history over and over again in our heads.

Friday, I auditioned for a show called, Happy Suicides. Written by the same girl who is writing a play whose main character is based off of…me. Her talent, I admit, I doubted a great deal. Until she insisted I read Happy Suicides. It’s great. The script was wonderful. Today, the cast list was posted. My name was next to that of the lead role, Georgia. There was no bias, she isn’t directing her play, so she didn’t choose who got what part. And there were many others who auditioned aside from myself. It will be strange to be on stage again…in this manner. Part of me wants to refuse the part and fade back into the background. Offer my costuming ideas instead. But maybe not.

Anyway, the story made me sad because…well it’s almost a mirror of my best friends from home. It was scary. Then, Melanie (the playwright), told me about her severe depression. But very nonchalantly. Like it didn’t matter…she said, "Well, you know, I think things like, ‘Oh, I didn’t get into Twelfth Night, I might as well go kill myself because I’m not good enough.’" She laughed it off, and I tried to with her..but I couldn’t get her words out of my head. Maybe because it was so unexpected from her. Melanie looks and speaks like the girl, Gretchen, from the cartoon, Recess. But she dresses very sixties or fifties chic. Artistic. Different. I love her for that. She doesn’t see what I see. I’d like to help her. But according to the campus counseling center, I’m a danger to others and myself. So what do I know? Hah.

I got my records back <3

Leigha.