FAME, SHAME, VULNERABILITY, and SEXTING W/ A STRANGER

A diary entry

The warm light of an artificial sun pours in through my kitchen window, illuminating my heavily made-up face, while an actor leans against the counter, directly opposite me. We both shake it out a little, laughing at the absurdity of the moment while trying to get loose in our bodies.

“Action,” yells the director, and the actor delivers her familiar line. Familiar because I wrote it. I respond with some other lines I wrote, and life becomes a weird feedback loop, a unique, dejavu-like moment. A first of it’s kind in my fairly wide breadth of odd life experiences.

I’ve been here before, my brain whispers. The line she just spoke, that I wrote, didn’t originate in my brain. Someone said it to me in real life, nearly a year before all of this.

The line made an indelible mark, sunk into my cerebral cortex and twirled around for a good while. Then I wrote about it, and then this happened. This film that I am acting in, well, not really acting as I am playing myself, delivering lines I wrote, …