I am nervous.
Breathe. Breathe.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my faded denim jeans. All I can think about is what the end result is going to be. I can not afford to ruin this. All the hours I have spent, my life and soul sweating over this one precious hour. The anxiety curled into my stomach, hands clawing up my throat and choking me letting the words I had practiced over and over again in the mirror in my parents bathroom be dragged back down my throat and dissolved into the acid of my belly, but all I can worry about it keeping my knees from buckling under the weight of my wobbly body.