When you have a hysteric personality (disorder), like I do, all the world is a stage.
Because it is impossible to truly come to terms with the fundamental emptiness at the core of my being and still live, I cloak myself in shimmering dark iridescent vestments, and wear a multitude of masks, painted in the colours of every woman.
Each of these is enticing to different people in different ways. I perform, I angle, until I hook someone that makes me forget that fundamental emptiness inside me.
I pour myself out, I let my cup be filled up, and I drink and drink and drink.
Until the drink becomes bitter, or the cup is wrenched from my lips.
I often try to deny myself my stage. I leave places and people and things behind.
And I am left empty again. Parched and starving. Paralysed by memories until I manage to find the cup that is the Cup of Oblivion.
But I cannot be alone. Because being alone means being alone with that emptiness that is the great lethal secret of my existence.
And so, the show must go on.
Thanks, you’ve been a great audience. I raise my cup to you!