We used to perform for years. We had created our personal jokes. We had so much fun together that we did not care whether we would meet other people. We could arrange a show and act with our heart. We were good at directing comedies, dramas and other genres according to our needs. We were satisfied after completing our small or big event. We sometimes invited people to our performances. We were so hospitable with our audience. We gave food to their stomach and their mind. We served spontaneous smiles. We would call them on stage and we would celebrate all together having as a background an amusing scenery.

We used to use the “we”.

Until the day that the “I” and the “You” invaded our script.

I could make no sense. I felt lost. I was not used to perform under these conditions. I started searching for the “we”.

And you were accusing me of not being enough. You became demanding. You commanded me to entertain you. You started creating your one jokes. You did not even care whether I was understanding their meaning. You were laughing by yourself.

Finally, one day, I discovered the “we”. It was hanging from our bodies. It was our costumes. The time had come. That show had reached its end. We could no longer perform as clowns. The costumes had turned shabby loosing their brightness.

I sat on the stage for a moment. I closed my eyes feeling my tears soaking my neck. I wanted to live this last phase of the performance.

There was nothing entertaining about it. I was not seeking for silly jokes now. I just wanted to play with sadness. I needed to sink my costume in a pool of honesty. I did not know how I would feel the next day, the next month, the next year. My present reality made me want to undress myself. I would put the “we” in front of me. Looking at it at a distance. Saying goodbye to the clumsy me. Saying goodbye to the clown “we”.