To Masochists Of The Theatre (third letter)

I was trying to provide you all with an ongoing distraction, but you’d already found your own.  I was going to lead you across a landscape but you were already on the move (each of you in your own unique way).  I don’t know what has taken any of you to where you’ve gone.  I don’t know if you’ve littered or fed the animals along the way. I don’t want you to explain it (what has happened and what is going on).  Your pleasure in suffering is upsetting enough.  I’m not like your kind and can’t take much more.
You’ve entered your parts and now you won’t leave.  You’ve all become your characters.  I need you all to know that I never wanted such transformations to be taken so literally.  Sure — I still think you shouldn’t worry about typecasting or career success, but that doesn’t mean you can or should abandon the world altogether for the sake of your art. Let’s not kid ourselves.  Art doesn’t have much to do with any of you any longer.  Each of you has mapped the stage as if it were the project of a lifetime, to the point where the project as a means has become the end. I know it can seem as if I’m contradicting myself here, but you probably never read my previous letters anyway, and besides, at this point you really need to stop and ask yourselves how this could all be different, somehow beyond your enraptured frames of reference.
Each of your worlds has become all you know.  Telling you this doesn’t help, as it only serves to validate the victimization you constantly desire.  You’ve let it reinvent your morphologies and explain what each of you sees with your own eyes.  I don’t recognize any of you anymore, but assume you’re still there somewhere — that there’s a lost balance to be found again with all those unbounded Super Egos.
You’ve been standing before strangers, asking them to like you and appreciate what you’ve done for so long now.  There’s no immediate dignities left, no remorse or shame. You’ve been judged and ignored to such a degree that I worry about what’ll happen if you suddenly have to do without.
Can your addicted constitutions survive the break?