I had such grand plans. I was so looking forward to revisiting Carol.
It has been the first role where I was actually proud of myself and my work.
That is hard, truly hard, to admit - caught as I am in the flux between self-hatred and narcissism.
During the performances I was terrified and fighting, I was strong and in control, I came close to tears every single night.
Don't you begin to see? Don't you begin to understand? It's not for you to say
Then, after it was advertised in the newspaper, my seemingly-cursed costar pulled out.
Poor dude missed the first two performances, stuck in Australia, missed rehearsals due to illnesses and dog-attack, and now a family death.
And I? All I can seem to care about is how disappointed I am. Ridiculous. There goes the self-hatred again.
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