Space is divided into two parts in black and white. The man moves in the black space, with his back on his back, slowly.
Men keep repeating, "I can't do this. I can't do this."
He finally got to the white space, and suddenly he got comfortable with his chest. The sound of strips and the sound of men's words becomes mechanical.
Hey, you guys know me? Sooner or later, my name will turn into a trance, using famous actors as a prefix. No one can play my role like this, no one can leave me like I did.
The real me is my fake.
At the beginning, I was a bad actor, and behind my back was a lot of loud voices talking about me, hating me, swearing at me. Those voices don't matter day and night, they don't stop in my ears. Until I met this beautiful mask on my face right now. I came to the public with curiosity and a mask. The public likes masks, which give me an unprecedented sense of superiority, and people finally look at me and admire me.
I tasted sweetness and thought that the mask was heaven's reward for a child who longed for praise, but I didn't even think that Pandora's box had opened.
I'm really hiding under a mask, and we make the most elegant look, say the most decent words, and become the preferred young people.
Not enough, not enough love. I'm gonna be perfect forever. So I started to care about every little look I had, and I had to be perfect. I have to rehearse a million times a day and then bring it to the public. Me and my mask are getting better.
The desire for praise has made me a puppet, and the lines that control me have been shrouded in masks. I am increasingly relying on masks, fearing the truth, even sleeping with them. This pretty face is the real me, isn't it?
It's been a long time, the mask's the main object, starting to control my mind and crush my nerves. It repeats in my ear every day, "Poor God, no one would look at you without me. You're just my slave, a puppet without self." I can't take off my mask anymore.
I finally know I'm scared. I fought it against myself. I lost. It's not the soft skin on my face, it's the touch of ceramics, and it'll sound like the devil's mockery.
I took a hammer and threw it at my chin, and I fell into the ground. I looked in the mirror with my face shivers: the emptied part of the mask was empty, ugly black and deep. The first half of his face is still intact, his eyes are handsome, he looks forward to flying, and he has the most decent look in the world. That's when I realized that people don't love young people, they're just beautiful mask dolls. The mask never controls me, I'm relying on it.
Empty is the real me, the real me is my fake.
I crouched down and picked up the pieces of the mask carefully and restored it to the mirror. Masks, I confess. Let's make up. I'll never take you off again. Once I'm pretty, I'll always be pretty, and when I get nothing, nobody can take anything. I can't just show up.
Come on, let me stand in the middle of the light! Now you can applaud me and give me your flowers.
"I'm watching."