Prompter

I’ve forgotten who I’m supposed to be. The part I was playing …

I don’t believe in myself. I don’t believe in my own lies – I know they are lies, but I don’t know the truth. So you see I’m all at sea, philosopher.

I’m not telling my lies, philosopher. I’m not following my orders. I don’t know what my orders are anymore.


I need a prompter – that guy who’d feel you your lines. Or we’re like extras, who don’t even have any lines.


No one’s operating me. No one’s pulling my strings. I’m allowed to say whatever I want. But what is it I want to say? *I don’t think I’m alive anymore. I don’t think I’m dead, either. Is this Purgatory? Is this Limbo? Are we being judged? Did we have to earn our way to heaven?