Blackout.

This is it. Months of preparation and excitement leading up to these scarce times. The moment is here.

The lights suddenly blind me at every angle as everyone’s eyes find me.

What if I’m not ready? What if I mess up? What if it doesn’t live up to my fantasies?

The music commences and rushes through my veins. The tune eases my body to allow the knots in my stomach to unravel and the lump in my throat to dissipate.

Act big. Belt it out. I try to remind myself. However, my muscle memory has taken over, and my erratic overthinking has no chance to interfere.

I love this. I love everything about this. The burning of the lights, the gentle heat radiation off my body, my energy at its maximum, the firm wooden stage supporting my every decision, the encouragement from the audience, but mostly the tenderness of knowing that my parents are somewhere in this sea of people tearing up from pride of their not-so-little, little girl.

Every stressful thought. Every exhausting day. Every single ounce of effort... it’s been worth it.