Writing Prompt

I’ve done this for the past 100 days And yet the feeling stays the same I’m still anxious and afraid All it takes is one big step before I enter on the stage But I freeze and take a breath I’ve always hated crowds and loud noises but yet it seems I’ve made a career out of it Ironic I know But as I take that step onto the stage My fears go away and I preform another day Just for the cycle to repeat day after day

**In, out, in, out, ** **breath caught like a bird, ** **stage fright knots my stomach, ** **a spotlight blazing— ** skin tingling, heart racing.

**The curtain whispers secrets, ** **each heartbeat, a drumroll, ** **among faces, blurred, waiting, ** **my moment to shine. **

Lights, camera, action— **I step into the glow, ** **feeling every eye ** **pierce through my mask, ** **and for a flicker, ** **I am not just me, ** **but a thousand dreams. **

My homemade mask is on Full of bright smiles Happy eyes And rosy cheeks

I’m about to step out of my car which means Showtime is now here

I’ve gotten pretty good with my acting I convince people I’m happy And that I love the person that I am

I act confident Put together Like I have everything figured out

Ok Here we go One foot in front of the other

I see people in the distance They look at me with a bright smile plastered on their face And I know

I know that I’ve still got it I’ve still got the acting skills to convince the world that My life is perfect

A nervous smile, A whispered encouragement. Just waiting while the clapping fades.

Heart, too fast. Slow down the breathing. Cool and collected. Please.

Discussion from the actors That are already on stage, They chant, then fall silent.

A quiet step Before a confident persona Sweeps onto the stage.

A beat of silence Until a rough voice proclaims, “So foul and fair a day I have not seen.”

Breathe it in and hold it close to your chest. The lights became her eyes. She was alone But the river of applause coaxed Words into the memory of smiles of satisfaction. It wasn’t about selling. Selling her, It wasn’t about that. Not for her. It wasn’t about becoming better than those with voices that Flowed pure enough to cause shivers of understanding. That was theirs. But she had hers.

It was for the ringing of her voice into the crowd of faces who finally regonize her. See. It was for the long nights and hard days. Where the connection to the hands she held Became. It was Ophelia. It was eavesdropping on the future It was getting stuck between floors with the pleasure of unexpected company. It was learning the difference between want and need. It was being uncomfortable. It was surfing the decades. It was us and them, then none. It was drawing circles. It was states of panic. It was running rampant through the streets. It was bs-ing a monologue memorized during first, Standing up shaking while the second was at hand. It was falling down The Rabbit Hole. It was shoving it all in a laundry basket and chalking it up to childhood. It was learning to let go of the approval from those we needed it from the most. It was finding many voices. It was third place. It was air ducts and basements chock-full of fabric. It was fake relationships with the realest people. It was improvising mistakes. It was loading up tables in trucks. It was changing the world with five bucks. It was

a deep breath.

In and out.

And on to other things.

An ocean of people.

A bow and a river of emotion that shimmers as

the curtain is

Called.

Beat! beat! drums! — blow! bugles! blow! Through the windows — through doors — burst like a ruthless force, Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation, Into the school where the scholar is studying; Leave not the bridegroom quiet — no happiness must he have now with his bride, Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, ploughing his field or gathering his grain, So fierce you whirr and pound you drums — so shrill you bugles blow. Beat! beat! drums! — blow! bugles! blow! Over the traffic of cities — over the rumble of wheels in the streets; Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses? no sleepers must sleep in those beds, No bargainers’ bargains by day — no brokers or speculators — would they continue? Would the talkers be talking? would the singer attempt to sing? Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the judge? Then rattle quicker, heavier drums — you bugles wilder blow. Beat! beat! drums! — blow! bugles! blow! Make no parley — stop for no expostulation, Mind not the timid — mind not the weeper or prayer, Mind not the old man beseeching the young man, Let not the child’s voice be heard, nor the mother’s entreaties, Make even the trestles to shake the dead where they lie awaiting the hearses, So strong you thump O terrible drums — so loud you bugles blow.

"Today was the day the play started. I nearly had missed my cue. Dodging the extras who've been too soft-hearted, My mind remained locked on you."

The plot now is barreling towards me, Preparing to crush me to death. I guess it's true it adds action to the story, And now you're all that I have left.

"I know that I never can tell you Just how important this is. The chance of a lifetime, slowly coming true, Poses great danger of a miss."

So as I step onto this stage, The play we've all been waiting for, Please make it worth writing down onto a page, To remember forevermore.

Lights So bright Don’t be nervous I can’t help it Go

Aren’t these shoes so pretty I wish they felt that way

They say beauty is pain But why

Why do we associate beauty as pain When beauty can be many things

Like comfort or silly It doesn’t always have to be pain and perfect

Anyways it’s my time to dance

all eyes on me

ready to see, feel, hear the words bouncing off the mic

into the crowd a piece of me to be shared

give permission for ears to enter my soul

take control for this brief dramatic moment

I am all yours you are all mine our hearts intertwined

as we dance to the same beat my beat

inhale deeply exhale slowly I am ready

to take center stage