Humanity makes me sad.
So many performers afraid to show themselves,
hiding behind stories stitched from fear,
believing they are less than,
forgetting they were once whole.
Some grow hollow,
ugly from the inside out.
Some awaken,
and it takes all the strength in the world
to stand tall,
one breath,
one day at a time.
We are human beings carrying wounds,
seeking belonging,
chasing a place in the world.
But the sleepers write the rules,
casting shadows on lives they do not even see.
The circle spins—
a merry-go-round of illusions,
until the brave step off
and see it was never real.
Only a mask.
Only a facade
built to shield the fearful.
And still,
we hand over our power—
to voices outside,
to people who cannot define us,
to ghosts of control.
I hope for more bravery.
For courage in the rawness of truth.
For authenticity,
unfinished, imperfect,
a work in process—
the only path worth walking.
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