Went to my friend T’s cabaret tonight. It was a benefit for a theatre company and featured a number of young Broadway stars (from Annie, Mary Poppins, Matilda, etc).
I was at a table with the people I so blissfully spent last summer with. They make me feel important. They make me feel like I could be someone; like I AM someone, and it’s just a matter of time.
But we talked about the show we did last summer.
And we talked about the movie adaptation (which is happening). And we talked about how I would play my character’s sister. Because I’m “sexy” now. I’m too old.
I’m too old.
I’m too old.
I will never play Jonatha again.
My heart feels like it’s breaking. It doesn’t feel fair. It doesn’t feel right. It feels like I was given a beautiful gift, but after a few months of enjoyment, it’s been taken from me.
Which isn’t a fair way to see it.
The girl who developed the character through a number of years and a number of readings was replaced by me. It’s the way of the world.
But it was supposed to be me.
They told me it was me.
They told me not to worry.
“13 till 30,” we said.
But it took too long. It won’t come to NYC till next year. Next year I’ll be 25. Wow.
And I can guarantee you that I’ll be too old to play 14, no matter what they said last summer.
The thing is, they still love me. They still talk effusively about working together. How my success is just a matter of time. And I believe them. I do. I wouldn’t be in this business, breaking my own heart, my own spirit, constantly, if I didn’t believe that I would make it.
But that comfort.
The comfort of a part I’m perfect for in a play I love.
The comfort of knowing something is coming, and I don’t have to be afraid of what’s next.
The comfort of having something that’s mine.
Since I left my company, since last summer ended, I haven’t had that comfort. I have been struggling hard, frustrated and broken, scared and yet somehow still hopeful, for the last year.
But to find that one comfort, the comfort of Jonatha and the summer that changed my life, gone? I feel untethered. Scared. I feel like hope isn’t enough. Hope is great except when you don’t have anything to rest it on.
Scared and hopeful.
Disappointed and hopeful.
I guess if I can keep the hopeful, I have something to hold on to.