To be
is to live as yourself
To act
Is to live as someone else
An actor must become someone else
Put on a facade and convince everyone
They are who they say they are
But to convince,
Isn’t that just lying?
Lying to your friends, the audience
And even yourself,
Lying to yourself
About who you are.
After so many roles,
Does the real you exist anymore?
And to think, who isn’t acting?
Who doesn’t walk out of the house
Much different than you are inside?
If you showed the real you,
To anyone,
Would everyone be surprised?
Or is that person extinct now,
Never to be heard from again?

Unknowingly, we adopt another personality
One kinder, more talented, smarter
Trying to leave our real selves behind
All so we seem better.
To those who are doing the same
And those who only care about how we seem
To others
But to others, we “must show our best selves”
Whether it is or is not you,
We show the “best” attributes.

Acting, they say, is the best thing there can be,
But how does that make sense?
To become someone else
And lose ourselves
How is that the best?

Acting is the singular thing
That can show our true colors
Or just the black and white we have adopted.

To be an actor,
is to be able to drop the act
And show who you truly are,
That person that most people think is dead,
Just as I have.
And I’m ready to show my full rainbow of color.