I’m hungry. I pour myself into school. I’m hungry. I interact with friends. I’m famished. I read about auditions for a musical. A snack to tide me over. I prepare for my moment to impress. The nerves make me feel sick, yet my hunger persists. I sing for the director, just a ten year old with a dream. A small meal. I make the show. Breakfast. Six months go by and the night has come for the show to open. The applause rushes over me like a tsunami. The grumbling goes away. 4 years go by, each one where an eleven, twelve, thirteen, and fourteen year old girl wants to continue consuming what dissolved her hunger the year before. It’s closing night of the last show I will perform in with Peter Pan Junior Theater. The hunger starts to make itself known. The audience jumps to their feet. The memories I had once soaked up spill out my eyes. I’m feeling rather faint now. Summer arrives. I’m absolutely starving. I receive an opportunity to return once again, this time as an assistant director. Lunch. I return to rehearsals in the fall to excited and hopeful faces, just 85 kids with a dream. An apple. I work hard to watch them succeed. I’m tired and still the hunger faintly persists. One night after rehearsal, a little girl with a dream walks up and tugs on the bottom of my coat. “Thank you for all that you do for us. When I grow up I want to be just like you.” I am full.