Theatre is a delicate yet powerful craft, as people from all walks of life play to a script and perform as if their very lives depend on it.
To be believable, to be real, to be as authentic as possible, with a raging audience wonderstruck, set with fantasies of escapism and preparations of criticism.
Theatre, both in the acting and technical aspects, has given me purpose; a dream I’ve held onto since I was 5 as I dance between worlds.
When I was little, my brother and I played pretend all the time. He’s two years younger, and while his immaturity was often more than annoying, I was his, and he was mine. I wrote the scripts, and he made the dances – it was perfect, as we spent summer after summer, fiddling with unsated boredom.
Our parents were our greatest audience members, and our living room was like a Broadway stage. We were invincible, my brother and I, performing grand soliloquies, the world at our fingertips. Our opinions and our ideas were unbothered by judgment and hatred.
By seven, my brother and I entered community theatre, as we hopped from company to company. While our peers were rushing home to play video games and watch TV, we were begging Mom to drive us to rehearsal, impassioned by the stage.
We would drink up the stage lights, he and I, with vibrant costumes and music booming, little consideration for those around us. We were onstage. That’s what mattered. We were in front of an audience of hundreds now, with proud parents nestled in the middle.
Weekends and late nights were my haven, the theatre my home. I was finally allowed to be myself, that proud girl, surrounded by people three times my age. Adults were our caretakers, the wings our home away from home.
As I get older, I realize the importance of my unique childhood. I stare across the table in a math class and can’t help but taste a bittersweetness; my peers will never understand the thrill of those blinding lights and booming songs, all eyes on you.
Senior Evynn Domenech said, “It’s my passion, and it allows me to create so many wonderful memories that I like to look back on.” She was recently in LOHS’ production of “Dead Man’s Cell Phone” and established the beauty of a living performance, one where the pains of reality melt away, forever dazzled by her promise of character and storytelling.
All I want is to be onstage, performing for the masses. Careless, unbound, free. I often give every little piece of myself to complete strangers when I’m under those lights – a liberty most my age haven’t met.
“I like the people I get to meet, it’s less about the audience and more about the cast,” said Senior Conner Hovey. “For me, it’s about getting to work on the show instead of performing.” Hovey is currently in “Three Bags Full” at LOHS, and allows himself to fall into world after world. He is just a delightful person all around, always warm and welcoming.
Every scrap of emotion, every sliver of thought shines on my face, in the creases of my skin. Confidence exudes in every bone, happiness running through my bloodstream.
There is a certain importance when it comes to the performing arts, especially as our world crumbles into footnotes of analysis, generative AI, and social media.
Throughout high school, I’ve taken notice of STEM’s brutal rise, as my peers surround themselves with science and technology in the prospect of making a fortune.
How unfortunate for them to feel they must fall into the pitfalls of microscopes and motherboards to survive in a world dedicated to self-destruction.
I will not sacrifice my passions, myself, for a government set on brainwashing the masses; art may not be sustainable, but it is lifegiving. And that will always be enough.