a l l i e

"Who I am and what I want are a secret."

Understanding people has been one of my many predicaments.

It simply doesn't stop at listening and understanding their lives through their speech and what they talk of. It is more than that.

I have come to realise that in order to know them is to become them.

Like acting, in order to know the character, you have to become the character and live through his/her life. The same can be said for trying to understand people...nay, rather--humans.

I look at the person who was to be my twin brother in the play and I often wondered about his nature. My director has told me countless of times to spend more time with him so we could bond together as actual siblings; in this case, identical twins.

Yet, even in the times we meet (previously), I could sense a huge barrier that separates us. Although it is true that each humans live in their own world, there is a probability that a mutual bond can be forged between those worlds. No matter how small it was, it is there. Hence, this is the reason why I was able to mingle well with my fellow cast members.

But him...

...he is rather peculiar.

It felt very different with him than with the others.

Please, do not misunderstand me. I have mingled with the others in private, one-on-one sessions, and they all proved to be fine. That fine line of awkwardness remains, but it is fading as time goes by.

Yet I do not sense this from him.

He always seemed as though he has something more to say in his long pauses. Often, I assume that he was finding the right words to say it. Yet, as time went by, I began to realise that it was more than just that. At least, according to my observation, it was.

Was it because of me and how blunt I am towards him?

Was it because of his girlfriend?

Was it something about him that he never tells anyone at all?

Then I searched for my answers elsewhere; I went to his blog. There, I...somewhat saw a partial of the answers I was looking for.

My eyes caught sight of his girlfriend and how close they are, how he often takes her pictures and comments on how much he loves her. Made me chuckle a little; it reminded me of myself a long time ago. Perhaps a little of me now, perhaps.

But if anything, I could use this piece of information to my advantage.

If he doesn't talk, perhaps his lady might.

If I'm losing readership at this point, then it's better that way. A blog, in the end, is still a diary of sorts. It doesn't matter who reads it, so long as you know that it's out there and that people are reading it.

I am at a crisis, you see.

Right now, I just need. Someone. To listen. Anyone, for that matter, because if this goes on, I don't know what will happen to me.

...*chuckles* Who am I kidding? Nobody, in this time of the day and age, would read something this bloody long about someone else of least importance to them, right?

Nevertheless...

Let me tell you my story.

This year is my final year of my degree. I made a promise to myself to perform better this year, for my sake, and my future. Since I met William, I felt like I had more purpose in life than I had ever before, that my life actually held some sort of meaning to it. I am still working at the tuition centre, still teaching English to the children there, and I planned to make an actual career from it. I am still with William, and I hope that in 2 years time, we will be wedded.

And to add more to my optimistic state, I decided to go out with a bang by putting myself out there during the audition for Twelfth Night at my college. Lo and behold, my first audition ever landed me as the female lead role, Viola. I was elated. Very much. And another promise was made to myself; I wanted to give my very best for this role, the play, and the ensemble, who have now become more than friends to me. They are my family.

The future seems bright.

The path was laid there before me; all I had to do is to walk on it and reach the end with all the worldly-knowledge I've gained throughout that walk.

Yet, what walk is complete without its complications?

To be honest, I don't know where or how it started. All I know is that I'm in it...for god knows how long. Exhaustion has been taking over me for the past couple of weeks. It could probably be from assignments, or campus, or rehearsals, or something. I don't know.

Then I realised that I wasn't just exhaustion. I feel as though...something, or someone is taking over me.

Time after time, rehearsal after rehearsal, I was told by my director to become Viola, the character that I am playing. And every time he says that, I try. I look for her. I searched for her. I called out to her.

She is there, she is in me.

We understand each other. We could feel each others' feeling, especially that lonely feeling that we both experience. While she did in the play, I did in real life.

The one person she could rely on was Sebastian. The one person I could rely on is William.

In my mind, Sebastian was the only person Viola could talk to, and be herself. He knew all her secrets, all her desires, dreams, pains. He was her confidant, more so than any of her family member. Then again, Sebastian later became her only family member after their father passed on. That further emphasised on how important Sebastian was to her.

As for me, I don't confide in anyone as often as I do with William. He is family to me; emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, and soon, physically.

But along the way, Viola lost her brother. Whether he died, she knew not. All she could do now is grit and bear it, put on a mask, don a disguise, and go out into the world as Cesario.

And, as much as I know that I have my love with me all the time, but every time we part, I was as lost as Viola was. 'Grit and bear' was all that I lived on until he wakes up and talks to me again. As small as this separation may be, it is...the same feeling. It is still separation.

While we both continue to grit and bear that thought of being alone, we then realise that we have no one to turn to. No one to hear our thoughts.

Of course there are people, but do they hear us? Do they even bother to listen and not just hear us?

Yet, even if they do listen, would they even understand why it makes us feel this way?

Perhaps they can't see it. Perhaps it's because we can't, nay--don't know how to show it. Because we've always been revealing this side of ours to that one person. And now that that person is gone, we become lost, stragglers. Yet we can't get that side of ours out when people wonder about our welfare, about how we feel, and why we don't talk to them even though they offered to lend their ears to us.

But this is where the line is drawn between Viola and myself;

The monologue, to Viola, is a self-confession to no one. She was only talking to herself, talking to her mind. Hence, she is given the freedom to release herself that way.

I, on the other hand, am suppose to express the same feeling she felt to the audience. I am to convince them that I feel this way. I, who feels the same was as Viola, am to tell the audience the way I would talk to myself in private.

That is, by far, my biggest challenge, and the one thing that has been occupying my mind since our blocking (rehearsing by scenes from the script) got to that point. And all these while, I've been laden with that melancholic feeling that it began to exhaust all the optimism in me.

It's affecting my work, my...life at home and college too, I guess.

In my attempt to search for Viola, I let her take over me.

Maybe this is that moment that my director told me about.

...I have to untangle myself from this.

Somehow.