Wil, I don't know you, nor do I know how I came to follow you on twitter. I follow a lot of writers and I usually just skip past the blog post entries, however, your''s called me this morning, "This was harder for me than I thought," I too have felt that many times after writing. It almost feels like, "I've made it through something horrific but lived to tell about it." It usually takes a few days to recover from the emotional upheaval but once I'm safely on the other side I feel subdued. While reading your piece I was surprised to learn how much writers and actors have in common. Each craft has an outlet for the soul and also a looking glass for others to see. I felt the lure of the stage in your essay as a place of cleansing for you. I hope writing about it provided as safe a portal for your ancient sadness as acting out the role would've. Your writing shook me and I felt you. My eyes stung and innards tightened for the metamorphosis of a man I don't know. Thank you for the privilege. www.monocurious.wordpress.com