I don’t think I’m actually a good actor. I don’t think I’m actually a good singer. I don’t think I’m actually a good comedian. These people are engulfed in that world. They breathe it, live it, become it. They train, study, practice, and they do this rigorously until reaching perfection. Literal perfection. They train hard on their skills, hitting stage after stage, plateau after plateau, to perform it so well that they convince you it is real. That’s art. Pure art that is not easily attained, only earned through the constant work you put in to perfect your craft. That’s acting. That’s not me. None of that is me. I’m a guy, a guy on the outside, in awe. Not of your performance, but of what your performance gave you; admiration. I’m in awe of how you attract people to you. I’m in pure awe of the amount of power you wield. I think “Hey, I’ll just do what they’re doing, and people will finally see how great I am. I’ll prove everyone who doubt me wrong, I have this in me and I’m going to do it easily”. I have unresolved issues. I need help. Badly.