naked

When I perform in front of people I feel naked.  No not in front of a big group of people.  Just one or two people in a small room.  Intimate.  No stage or lights.  And a good kind of naked.  Not like someone just tore off your clothes to expose you but like you want to show them everything.  To not hide.  Even the dark secrets and weaknesses.  Your fears.  In a proud display of emotion.  Some things cannot be said aloud.  Only music can fully express them.  Fully open up the truth.  Make a connection that wouldn’t exist otherwise.  But then the piece ends.  And the moment’s over.  You cover back up, reclothe, and walk away.  And you question if the feeling was mutual or if it was all in your head.  Just pretend.  Then there’s anguish.  Regret.  They know everything now.  Now you’re just a boring piece of parchment washed up.  You might be glanced at but you’re quickly discarded.  There’s nothing left.  You’ve been analyzed and judged for all you are.  Now you’re just a memory.  A shadow of what used to be a mystery.  And if you’re lucky, you will be remembered that way.  As something never fully understood, not the final display.  But as time goes on, doubt will start to cloud the past.  Did that actually happen?  Or was it just a faint dream.