“Life seems a series of clips, from different movies people are creating. We’re all these actors and actresses, who get dressed up. We play our parts, but when the sun goes down, we all take off the stage makeup, to reveal our true identities. No one films that. That’s under wraps and cut out of sequences. Everyone thinks that the person next to them is perfect, because there are no flaws in the scene. They were erased.”
“And what about us?” I ask.
She looks at me, tilting her head as if to read my thoughts better. “I think—or at least sometimes—we are so real people don’t know what to do with us. Thus, the reason we’re never depicted as stars. No, we’re extras, that add some flavor every now and then.”
From a story I’m in the process of writing.