Most of the time, being myself feels more like acting than theatre does, like I’m perched somewhere far back in my brain, pulling the levers that make my body move: Do this, say that, feel this emotion. Like every other girl got a manual of how to be a girl and I didn’t, like I’m fumbling around trying to figure it out and whenever I think I’m getting close, it all gets fucked up again. Kind of like when your headphones are tangled up and you pull on the end but they just get more tangled. Maybe my gender is tangled-up headphones.
