I can’t stay here
I can’t run from reality anymore
This flimsy tent of white paper and black ink will not hide me from the howling storm outside

The cardboard cutouts of people that I’ve propped up against the walls of my mind
Won’t satisfy this ache for human connection
This painted scenery can never replace the mountains and forests I’ve forsaken
Their depth and dimension will always elude me
Unless I choose to step outside and accept their embrace
Bright hues of bright blue and yellow won’t give me the freedom of open sky

I can play whatever role I wish in this hidden performance shielded by stage curtains
But when the makeup is washed away
My identity will remain the same unanswered question mark
I may be safe from the audience’s potential heckles and jeers
But that is because there is no audience at all
I perform for empty seats because I dare not hope for real applause
The only answer to my voice is an empty echo that grows smaller and disappears

The statues I carve that guard these gates will never be breathed to life
While the stone that shapes their bodies may be stable and constant
They will never provide the warmth and will of a real person

No, I must escape

I must lay the cardboard cutouts quietly in the corner
I must take a final bow and leave this hollow theatre
I must step outside the protection of my stone sentinels
I must push aside the pages of my paper prison though they may rustle in protest
I must breathe the fresh air no matter the weather or season
I must make clumsy, fallible connections with other clumsy, fallible people

One day when I am brave enough I will invite them into my familiar sanctuary
On that day there will be no more masks or roles
The only part I will play is myself
I will release my voice into their custody and trust them to do as they see fit
But I will no longer rehearse for that day
The real stage awaits me
And so does my audience