No better feeling than being in the

Spotlight

My forehead is sticky with salty sweat and the musty air filled with smoke and voices

“Mic is on”

Rings in my ear as I step out on stage, my confidence overcoming my fear and worrying

Each footstep is like a march, strong and sturdy and with promise

The crowd comes to a mute

The spotlight dims and I can only see the front row

The lit up entrance to the hole in the wall bar busts open and I am met with a familiar face

The same face that is home to the piercing green eyes that got me in trouble in the first place

A face of regret

A face of fear and punishment

A face that once said “i love you” and “you mean the world to me”

A face that also once said “They’ll never believe you” and “you can’t do anything about it”

My confidence is shot down like a pigeon soaring in a gun range

my breath escapes my body

The face is stretched into a smirk and the body that belongs to the face slouches, leaning against a hightop table

The light of my mind fades and my mouth falls to an unsatisfying frown

I escape the noise of my panic and the bright, blinding spotlight that has now become uncomfortable.

The jet black mascara, rolls down my cheeks as I blast out of the stage doors and to the parking lot.

My forehead is cold and not sweaty anymore, due to the ice wind and the lack of scarf or jacket that is still in the practice room.

No worse feeling than being in the

Spotlight