The Magician

A young magician practiced

endlessly perfecting his craft.

He can’t count the number

of the times that he has said:

“Look. Is this your card?”

Late nights in isolation.

His unhealthy obsession of

performing the perfect act

held his identity prisoner.

In pursuit of putting on

the perfect show – to entertain

others, he lost his way. His day

would quickly become night.

He could control fire: not time.

He cared too much about what

others thought of him: whether

negative or positive, he was

captive to outside opinions.

All he wanted was for people

to care. All he wanted was

to be seen. He did whatever

it took to be appreciated.

He was never happy despite

the sold out shows, the money

earned, and the lessons

learned. He had everything

he thought wanted, yet he felt

empty. He spent most of his

life alone: in hotel rooms,

tour busses, and on stage

trying to be someone else. He

became his title: a magician.

When the curtains closed

and the lights turned off,

he was left there with his

thoughts: those unrelenting

thoughts he tried to suppress .

The praise, fame, and attention

didn’t bring him peace. It sent

him to a place of darkness

and regret. He became

an illusion – a man standing

in front of smoke and mirrors

who couldn’t see his own

reflection. He knew how to

trick others, but he never

knew how to trick himself.

Sure, he was a great performer

and magician that others

adored, but what he realized

was that he wanted more.

He knew that it was all an act.

He wanted his life back.

One day, he released the rabbit

he would often pull out of his

hat. He put down the magic

wand, deck of cards, and

all his props. He retired his

stage name and became

who he needed to be all along:

himself. At last, he performed

his last magic trick and became

someone instead of something.