The past month was a month-long monologue of my attempt at processing questions around being enough, being known, and keeping up to certain expectations. I was confronted with conversations about starting a good run, yet dwindling along the way – and what was I supposed to make of that? I was confronted with conversations on realities and perhaps there’s no amount of helping can help – and what was I supposed to feel about that? I was confronted with seemingly small and irrelevant questions, yet the voices keep haunting me like ghosts.

There was no clear, defined story; but I danced around a growing monologue. So, I tried a different form of writing; here is my attempt at a screenplay of a screenplay: The Talented.