COMMOTUS

By Connor Cunningham

Unknown: Who is the actor? And who is the audience? I ask myself that a lot. Surely it's me - On the stage, before all of you. Speaking. 'Acting'. Lying… Only I'm not lying, hmm? I'm not lying. No, no, no, no, no, you see…you are the liars. Society looks at me, frowns and says "Surely, this boy is deranged. He's insane; mad". They sealed me away, in a room with no windows, no light. White walls. Blank ceiling and floor. It was bright, though. The dark couldn't get me. A bed and a toilet. That's all there was. I hated it. Despised it. Loathed it. But it was my home for many years, you see, so I felt…a connection. With that place; the people in there. The staff had no faces. They disappeared as soon as they arrived. Like a mirage. At first, their presence scared me. They came with needles and vials. With things that, if you're lucky enough, you'll never have to see. But the others…the ones like me…they meant something. Their presence had an effect on me. I saw that, despite how you made me feel, I was not alone. I also saw that, really, I was not insane. I was merely expressive. See? See? Because you are the liars. You hide behind that one-sided glass staring at me, like there's something wrong. And I can't STAND it! You think, you dare consider, that I am the one who's insane?! No! Just…no. You know, and I know, that the ones who are screwed…are you. I am who I am. I don't hide it behind a mask. You all 'act' the way you do because that's what others dictate as being acceptable. As being the norm. But, really, you are deranged! As mad as the hatter! You are liars! To yourselves! AND to me! So…who's the actor? Hmm? I ask my friends this. I shout "Them or me? Huh? Them OR me?! ME or them?! Who is the actor?! Who is the audience?! HUH?!" But I get no answer. They stare at me…like I am insane. But it's them…they're… So, d'ya wanna know what I do? *CLICK* Now, let me have your opinion. Who is the actor? And who is the audience?