In a World Full of Actors

I am an actor. I go through each day acting happy or sad, laughing at terrible jokes, and pretending to be interested in what other people are saying. I watch others make their way through life by acting, and those who grow tired of acting try to kill themselves or other people. I believe that it is easier to act through life than to tell the truth.

At school there are those teachers that I dislike. Each day I walk into their classroom give them a pleasant smile and pretend that nothing is wrong. It is the same way with many of my friends. They talk about staying up all night, talking with their boyfriends on the phone, but I could careless. Still I listen and act as though I am interested because it is easier.

It is same way at home. I have a family made up of a little brother who is a fat mama’s boy, a father who is busy planning his life at sea, and a mother who is oblivious to how much of a hypocrite she is. Yet I live on, pretending that these facts are just figments of my imagination.

I have turned my back on my mother. If only she knew how much I hate her. I cannot remember the last compliment she gave me. When I mess up she screams until I don’t think I will be able to hear anything else. My mom won’t let me clean up my own messes. The worse of it is I finally convince her that I can walk across the street by myself but I can’t take a single step without her watching.

My mom was my idol once, but then I grew up. I realized that she cares more about her lousy work than about my wellbeing. My entire family has to tiptoe around her when she is having one of her moods, but when I get upset I get to hear about it until someone else messes up. The outside world doesn’t see my mom get herself worked up into a frenzy, how she can goes off at every little thing, how she talks about people behind their backs like a teenager.

I have been raised by a hypocritical mother, who corrects her daughter on everything that she, herself does on a daily basis. However, when I come down stairs in the morning I always give my mom a friendly, “Morning!” and act as though she were still my best friend. How can I tell her that she is no better than me? I hate my mother but some how, I forget.

I am living in a world full of actors and I am one the few who recognizes it. But I am tired of acting all the time and I want to speak my mind. Though I fear that if I say something, nothing will change.