Soiree

Swish, the white and blue-lined silky fabric tingles my nylons

Big, bright lights glare into my eyes, but my smile stays put until the corners of my mouth ache.

Melodies and words pour out, audible for our audience to hear,

For the soprano section to listen for,

For me to thrive on.

Rosey cheeks, freshly curled hair, big black spiders hanging off of my eyelashes.

Click, clack, character shoes all around me.

5, 6, 7, 8 - pas de bourree!

Dance steps intermingle with singing just as easily as love intermingles with sin.

Is there such thing as too much?

A slate-black stage becomes my home for 2 minutes and 50 seconds.

The length of a song, aka, the length of a lifetime;

A different person comes alive when the music is playing.

The audience is there to be entertained, but it's selfish to note that I'm the one who is most overjoyed.

I feel invincible.

Nothing bad can happen onstage; all of the rumors, the loneliness, the drama, the zits, the pressure... it evaporates

I may not be perfect, but here, I don't have to be.

I don't have to be someone I'm not unless I'm purposely playing a part.

My shy demeanor is pushed off into the wings while a confident beauty takes her place.

I soak up the vibes of center stage, of my classmates who share the same passion, of the roar and smiles and cheers of the crowd.

When my foot hits the wooded stage, when my vocal cords release my happiness, even when sweat beads form from giving each performance my all, I am flawless. For myself.

 

Comments

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