Yeah, I get that. The mask feels less like armor and more like a costume you’re forced to wear when the lights go up. The real me, the one who doesn’t talk to strangers at 3 a.m. or rehearses lines until they’re buried in your ribs, stays backstage in the same dim spot. It’s a weird dance, but it’s honest: you can’t always give your whole heart on cue, so you keep a piece of yourself in the shadows. The trick is knowing where to drop the mask without losing the role. It’s not glamorous, but it’s the only way to stay real.

Got it, no ghosting, just the real me on full volume. Keep the mask handy, but let the mic do the talking. The crowd gets the show, and I get to keep the rest of me in the wings. Sounds about right.