(aka: Please clap, I’m holding my self-worth together with a thumb tip)
Look, therapists of the world, gather ‘round. This is not a request. This is a petition, a manifesto, possibly a public safety warning. Magicians should get free therapy, and here’s why:
1. We Lie for a Living and Call It “Entertainment”
Our entire career is built on deception. We stand there, smile wide, and confidently say things like “The card is gone,” as though we did not literally just shove it into the back of the deck like a panicked raccoon hiding evidence. Eventually, that kind of lifestyle does something to your soul.
2. We Spend Hours Talking to Inanimate Objects
“Come on, you can work today. Please don’t jam on me,” I whisper to my trick deck at 2 AM, with the kind of emotional desperation typically reserved for negotiating with Wi-Fi routers or toxic exes. Therapy. Please.
3. Audience Reactions Decide Our Worth Like We’re Emotionally Fragile Gladiators
Non-magicians: “I had a normal day.”
Magicians: “A drunk man named Chad yelled ‘It’s in his sleeve!’ and now I’m questioning my identity.”
One silent audience = three months of feeling like a broken McDonald’s ice cream machine.
4. We Hide Things in Our Clothing Like Guilt-Ridden Kleptomaniacs
I have, at any given moment during a show:
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6 coins in places I don’t want to talk about
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2 doves praying for release
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A deck of cards wedged somewhere that is NOT OSHA-approved
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A thumb tip full of fake blood and broken dreams
How do you not need therapy after that?
5. Children Have Emotionally Destroyed Us Repeatedly
Kids at birthday shows treat us with the respect usually given to malfunctioning inflatable tube men.
Them: “I SAW THE TRICK!”
Me: “That’s the point.”
Them: “YOU’RE NOT REAL.”
Me: cries internally while pulling a sponge bunny from my pocket like it’s a divorce document
6. Our Rabbits Have More Control Over Our Careers Than We Do
If Mr. Fluffsworth decides he doesn’t “feel like appearing” tonight, I’m just a guy pulling scarves from places. That rabbit controls my reputation, income, and emotional stability, and he knows it.
7. Sleight of Hand = Hand Cramps + Existential Dread
We spend 6 hours practicing one move just to have someone say, “My uncle does that with a coin at Thanksgiving.” Okay, Dylan, does your uncle also cry into his close-up pad when everyone’s asleep? Didn’t think so.
8. We Perform for Weddings, Corporate Events & Sometimes the Hollow Echo of Our Own Regrets
Corporate event: “Can you walk around and do tricks for people who are too drunk to care?”
Me: “Of course, do I get emotional support?”
Them: “No, but you get exposure.”
Me: “So... trauma and a snack?”
9. Doves Do Not Respect Us (And They Never Will)
Nothing like trying to act mysterious and powerful while a pigeon you spent $75 on poops down your tux mid-routine. I can levitate, but I cannot escape the judgment in that bird’s eyes.
10. Hecklers Exist
“Do it again, but slower,” says the man who once sprained his ankle trying to get into a hammock.
Bonus: A Grown Adult Has Shouted “WITCH!” at Me At Least Once
I don’t want to be burned at the metaphorical stake of Facebook gossip because Cheryl from accounting thinks I commune with spirits for card reveals.
Conclusion: Therapy Should Be Included with Every Top Hat Purchase
We’re illusionists, not emotionally balanced unicorns. We’re caffeine-powered anxiety goblins who pretend to bend reality while slowly bending under the emotional weight of constant judgment.
Give us a therapist. A support group. A hug from someone who won’t say, “I know how you did that.”
Until then, I’ll continue pulling my feelings out of a hat like a sad wizard in debt.
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