that-guy-from-that-thing

I have always been irritated by people who arrive to the front of a Starbucks line, and as if surprised by the question, “What can I get for you?” begin for the first time in their lives to consider the menu and available food items. I want to find these people to be the scum of the earth, to start threads on NextDoor decrying their atrocities. But the reality is, my issue has nothing to do with them at all.

For the majority of my life, all decisions have been made to avoid being noticed by others. So, my Starbucks order is thoroughly and exhaustively vetted and silently rehearsed to a stutter-free and concise perfection, before I even walk into the building. In watching these people who are able to stand before the masses without a care in the world, I cannot relate to their inner workings whatsoever. No part of their day is spent figuring out how to not be looked at.
Strange for someone who became an actor to believe he didn’t want to be on display. The truth is, I’m disguised by the work that I’ve done. The wonder and question in someone’s head about if I’m that-guy-from-that-thing, has always been a distraction, another shield that hides me from actually being seen.