Stage

How can you have said all the things you have said,

done the things you have done,

implied the things you have implied?

Your words, so comforting and kind

are all lies.

Lies.

You say one thing and do another.

Hard work equals success, you said.

Just wait, you said.

Don't worry, you said.

Just wait until you're a senior, you said.

Lies.

Every last one.

Then you bring in God,

the Holiest of Holies

and claim to stand for him.

Never mind that this is a school environment

and not everyone believes in Him.

I do.

But when someone doesn't, you shun them.

Like you have shunned me, in a different way.

Every day I labored for you.

I acted for you

danced for you

sang for you

for what?

Why?

So you can cut all my scenes?

Crush all my dreams?

Use me?

Abuse me?

Tell me I'm fantastic and you're so blessed to have me

then take it all away

and give it to someone else.

Like your daughter.

So stiff.

I know what I can do.

What I am capable of

outshines all the false compliments you have given me.

You call yourself an educator?

A teacher?

A friend?

I call you a liar.

A fake.

Now the screen I saw freshman year has cleared.

I see what you are.

I see what you have done.

I guess I should thank you.

Not for teaching me the craft-

I taught that to myself.

Not for being there-

I've got family for that.

Not for putting me out there-

I did that.

But for teaching me one crucial thing:

rejection.

Don't worry-

as soon as I auditioned somewhere else

I was picked.

First.

I am good enough.

I am great enough.

But you cannot claim me as your own.

I am not a product of you.

I am a product of passion

and hard work

and

pain.