the actress

I knew an actress a long time ago. She had the brilliance of a star, and it’s a pity the world never knew her name. But her gift wasn’t meant for a theatre’s platform, she brought it with her through all of life’s stages. When her heart was first broken—oh, you should have seen her act. She was all nods and smiles, and her lines were clear and well-spoken as she shook hands and said “goodbye, I understand. No, I’m okay. Take care of yourself.”

I suppose it’s then I realized that actors weren’t people. they were something more, something higher, something deeper. they were the ones with the brightest faces, strongest hearts, and most positive smiles. their language was nothing but extraordinary, their words carved so neatly into conversation. everything was cheerful and composed, they executed their lines with utmost serenity. they command every gossip, they’re the star in all our rumours. 

 yet no one bothers to ask how they’ve been.

i lost touch with my actress a long, long time ago, but recently i saw her and stopped to say hello. i told how i knew her, and asked how she had been. she smiled and nodded and walked out my life again. now i wish i’d asked her if she were being true; if all those pretty words and assurances meant more than just ‘i’m fine’. i wish i’d asked how she’d done it—kept up with all the pain. i wanted to know how she hid it underneath a facade. i wanted conformation of an inkling that i had, but i doubt she would have told me. i wondered where those smiles came from, that endless supply of nods. i wanted to learn the trick of laughter, perfect amounts nonchalant and carefree. 

now i wish i’d asked her if those smiles and nods were her audition to secure her current role.