Living in the spotlight

I step out. The spotlight whirs around and then lands on me. I'm center stage. The audience smiles. I simply stand there. The other people dance around me. They highlight me. But I'm what they came to see. Not my costume. Not my dancing. Not the other 50 people on stage. But me. I miss a step. They hate me. I miss a line. They hate me. I fall. They hate me. You miss a step. You miss a line. You fall. They don't care. It's all about me. It's lonely. Living in the spotlight. I get all the flowers and the smiles. But the other people hate me for it. My friends don't hate me for it. They can't hate me for it. They don't exist. So there I stand. Everybody else in the world hates me. But the audience loves me. And in the end. That's all that matters. Me. The audience. My spotlight.