Whenever I do something, I do it with every ounce of my being. I skate by myself in the quiet, gentle woods, but I can feel thousands of eyes weighing down on me. They are watching me with fiery eyes that burn holes into me, waiting for me to do something spectacular. It's a clear night, the moon is out, but I am the only star in the sky. I wear my warmest, which also happens to be my favorite of all, winter coat, with the hat my mother knitted for me herself. I like to believe she infused her love for me into that hat, and it gives me immeasurable strength, for nothing is stronger than the power of a mother's love.

Whenever I spin or twirl, The wind screams my name, and the trees sway their branches with excitement. I am fabulous, nothing and no one can touch me. The lone bulb on the lamp post pours brilliant, pure, white light down on me like a spotlight. I glide over the ice with a flawlessness that seems impossible for someone as unstable as me. I flash the crowd my most dazzling smile, that warms the chilly night air. I dance across the slick ice as graceful as a ballerina. I may not have any music, but I can still dance to my rapid heartbeat, that pounds in my chest like a drum.

As I go I hear the hushed whispers of excitement go through the audience. Everything is going smoothly, that is until I hit a bump, and go flying across the ice. I hears snickers, my face turns as red as a robins chest. But I am a strong, proud person, and I stand up with confidence I never knew I had. I refuse to let that one mistake define my whole performance, I skate fiercely across the ice, with a passion I never could have imagine possible. I execute each move perfectly, my earlier blunder already forgotten. I hit my final pose with my arms out wide, full of sass. My eyes are twinkling, and I'm grinning ear to ear. The crowd goes crazy, and I take a bow. Whenever I perform for my invisible audience, I do it with every ounce of my being.