pov of a clown

i'm a talker.

like a, really big one.

i can talk nonsense things, nonstop.

i can laugh loudly at nonsenses.

i can give nonsense comments,

nonsense jokes, 

nonsense logics,

nonsense in everything.

i'm a clown, to be exact.

i'm a clown,

with silly face,

silly body, 

silly gestures,

silly expressions,

you can call me weird, for real.

Well, this is the secret of a clown:
I’m a clown who does my job well,
but deep inside, it’s not my real passion.

I’m a clown
who gets super excited to do my job,
draining all my energy
just to match yours.
Deep inside, you’ll never know how many questions I ask myself:

"what am i saying"

"girl stop joking on that, they are not comfortable"

"girl stop talking, you might be oversharing"

"girl are you a joke?"

“Why did you respond like that? You didn’t think about their feelings?”
“Look, their responses aren’t good. They’re starting to get annoyed with you. Change to a new topic, now!”
“Look, they’re not answering your questions. They want to get away from you. Talk about something else! Now!”

I’m a clown
who feels overwhelmed
by my own act.
I’m a clown who talks a lot,
and I hate myself because of it.
I overthink everything I say.

Yes, I’m a clown
who feels completely drained
from being a clown.