"no good," "complete failure," the words swirled in your head like a noisy swarm of stinging wasps. You frantically rolled up your sleeve, feeling the familiar sensation of trembling fingers: it wasn't painful, but it wasn't pleasant either. The pain was somewhere in your throat, making you breathe more heavily. perhaps the words will drown in your breath, in the noise in your ears, in the strong beating of your weak heart — you are waiting for it, as once you waited to touch that long-awaited and intimate dream.

you have been in awe of the theater for as long as you can remember. these graceful poses, loud words, almost tangible feelings — small details of one big and beautiful machine. you did everything you could to find a good university and a master by the time you came of age, with whom you ideally had to spend most of your life, every minute absorbing the particles of genius. Preparations were exciting and heavy, for the most part because you could not get the proper professional assistance, but they gave their result: a place on the course of dramatic arts under the leadership of August Diehl — not the most famous actor, but known for his demanding and from this emerging promising young professionals. It seemed to be a victory...

you underestimated the word "demanding". At first, the master was a little more lenient, but immediately after a gentle introduction, you were thrown into a whirlwind of rehearsals, sketches, and criticism. Too many factors influenced your perception of the rather ordinary strict criticism: uncertainty about the honesty of your enrolling (after all, even minor acquaintances matter), the lack of professional skills, while your classmates had been studying in theater studios for several years... and a weak heart. the more a match gives its strength to a bright flame, the faster it burns out — you knew this, but you couldn't help yourself. the cycle of self-blame narrowed until it started to put pressure on your neck.

There are many different ways to cope with anxiety and self-doubt. you could choose anything from therapy to meditation. but... everything went wrong. It would seem, a wonderful student life, when you want to kiss everyone and try everything, but when a person is too weak to resist the current, what is left? to throw yourself into the deep end. And unfortunately, this is exactly what you did. First, a rare visit to bars, then meeting people "for verbatim"... And then the point of no return came.

you roll up your sleeve, sitting on the ground at the back of the bar, where the staff usually took a break. the cold rain didn't bother you anymore — you wouldn't have been bothered by a dirty spot on your ass, because you were ready to dive into something even dirtier. you didn't care where or under what conditions, as long as it was now, right this minute, with your eyes burning and your throat so wide from heavy, shaky breaths that it resembled a brass trumpet. you wanted to make a sound, but you couldn't.

maybe in this life you made a mistake somewhere... probably in the theater. definitely in the theater, and not in the fact that a starry sky appeared on the elbow.

it remains to remove the belt, the rest is a matter of technique. hands tremble while unfastening the tattered belt, which has long given way to trousers with a rubber band. does not remove. while you almost angrily do everything possible to deal with it as soon as possible, you hear a suspiciously loud cough, so as to call attention. Of course, you see a familiar face, slightly obscured by the night's gloom. What you don't recognize is the real stun.

— So that's what it is, — the master concludes sadly, sitting down next to you and examining the "starry sky." For the first time, it seems like genuine concern rather than a demand for a full cast at a rehearsal. — I should have guessed that this was the reason for your lackluster sketches. How long have you been doing this?