We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.
That’s an actor’s dream: To have a diverse career that asks me to go into scary new places within myself. I do well when I step into things I know nothing about.
i feel like im the most annoying person ever but i cant do anything about it