The applause mocks me. Mocks the fact I could never tell them all that I didn’t want this.

I stand among my proud mother and stony-faced father, staring in disbeleif and sadness at the audience. They’re cheering. They’re cheering for _me_. I catch a glimpse of my best friend, who winces at me and slinks back into the crowd. She knows. So does my father. Why me? I don’t deserve this. My mind is racing faster than ever before, and I’m trying to hold back tears. My father looks, ever so subtly, at me and shakes his head. The crowd- they’re cheering for my song. They’re cheering for the song I wrote. I alledgedly wrote. My brother- my _dead_ brother - wrote this song. He did it. How could I? The stage manager didn’t let me give my speech, he wouldn’t let me tell them- now they think I’m a songwriter, and I know what’s gonna happen- I’m gonna get a music scholarship or some shit like that and I have to tell them I didn’t write that song. I have to tell them. The applause subsides a little. Have they spotted my expression? I give a forced little smile and the clapping gets louder. What I see onstage is a liar. What they see onstage is a genius.

Amidst the roaring applause, a silent tear falls, reflecting the untold story I can never- _never_ tell.