There’s way too much acting. Too much putting on of faces and putting off of people. There is a limit to how much acting I can do. Over and over again, I play the parts in a cycle: the man I was at school, the man everyone else will see, the family’s middle child, the new guy at the hangout.

It’s all a lie. Nothing feels real about it, because nothing is real about it. I don’t want it, and the experiences that come with it can go with it, too. I have to put on the acts of boyfriend, friend, son, nephew, when I want to just go away. There is just too much I don’t say, and so much more I feel I need to hide.

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