Why I Act

     My best friend has always had a thing against actors.  His reason was when it comes to love scenes, he says, "It's like, 'Hi, this will look like I'm making love to you when in actual fact I am feeling you up.'"  I've tried to change his mind, but it hasn't worked.  Saturday night between movies, he made the comment that "actors are prostitutes, they sell themselves."  I retorted that everyone does that.  But, I had had it.  That wasn't the only comment he had made, but that was the one that hit the hardest.  One thing I am not is a prostitute, no matter how you use the word.
     I was so offended that I turned from him and refused to speak to him.  After about fiteen minutes, I started to cry.  At that time, he kept on saying to me, "Kirsten, please talk to me.  What did I say? Was it about actors . . . or the comment I made about love? . . . Kirsten, please . . . if you want, we can leave and talk about this . . . in fact, I'd rather talk about it now . . . I want to know how I hurt you ao that I won't do it again . . . Kirsten, please talk to me, PLEASE . . . Do you want to leave?"
     "No, " I whispered the response, "I want to watch the movie."
     "Are you sure?"
     "Yes."  So, we watched the movie (during which he held my hand).  Afterwards, he asked me where I wanted to go so we could sort it out.  We decided that my room would be better because my roommate was gone for the weekend.  So, there we were in my room.  I sat in my chair and he sat on the floor.  I had stopped sniffling during the first reel of the film.  But, as soon as I sat down, I started crying again.  After a minute or so, he said, "I don't know how you'll take this, but I want to give you a hug."  I accepted it and then he told me to sit next to him.  I had a tissue with me and I proceeded to tear it (slowly, almost deliberately) in half and half again, until it was in small pieces.  It was a long time before I could speak.  He waited patiently for me to speak.  All he did was look at me and rub my back.  I started:
     "I don't think you know how much Drama means to me.  No one knows WHY it does . . . Ever since I was a child, I'd escape into my own, little world where no one could hurt me.  I could be anyone I wanted and do whatever I wanted . . . only Kirsten got hurt . . . and even though the characters I played got hurt, that was fine.  It was only make-believe.  I could get hurt and not have to feel the pain, for a change.  Drama was and still is my means of escape.  It's therapeutic . . . it was either Drama or another suicide attempt."
     It was amazing that I hadn't had much trouble speaking through my sniffles.  I was glad that he hadn't interrupted me.  He then asked me if he could be my shoulder to cry on.  I leaned against him and we ended up laying side-by-side on the floor (It WAS 2:30 in the morning).  He kept on rubbing my shoulders, but said nothing.  After several minutes, he turned his head to me and said something I will never forget:
     "You're fine.  I'm the one who's ignorant."