This place is death with walls.

Tunes in my head: Body Electric by The Sisters Of Mercy
Atmosphere: Reminiscient, dark.

You betray me and don't even notice.

It's not a fantastic feeling, being on the other side of the stage. But I still do it because I'm so proud of you. Because I want to support you, because I want to be there for you.

But when I take my little side role, are you in the audience?

Of course not. You never are.

You never sit entranced, out of the spotlight for one moment.

And there's not even no compliment when you're not there. There's no "wow, you're amazing at that."

Just nothing.

And that really wears somebody down. It really destroys someone to not have that.

And as a result, the mask is lowered. The darkness takes over.

Surely you can sit in the audience for one night while I stand in the gaze of the spotlight arc.

Surely you can put yourself aside for once.

I did. For such a long time. I still do.

But it's not fair if it doesn't go both ways.

Know what hurts even more? If you're prevented from coming because of something else.

If you book this performance three months in advance, and the night before you decide instead to go and get a cup of coffee with someone else.

The feeling of dejection.

The failing of dejection.