1 August 2012
A single spotlight beats down, gripping your flesh.
Four hundred eyes bare into your face, costume, mind.
They know you're nervous.
The excruciatingly heavy fabric of your statement dress drags you down.
Down beneath the hollowed floor with the backstage crew.
Where you belong.
Each breath you take makes no difference to your gasping lungs, your flittering heart as it is grasped by adrenaline and squeezed.
Suddenly you are aware you are alone, a single cactus in the desert.
The music begins.
Your brain wills you to gather each lyric together but they're scattered up somewhere unreachable.
Catching an audience member's eye, an audience member you've never met before in your life, you remember one thing:
These people came here for a show.
Each word, each note, each movement tumbles through the atmosphere and rests, in your mind, where they belong.
You are no longer you, you are the character, and that character wouldn't be afraid to impress an audience.
You are no longer you.
And that's why you love performing, that's why you're here upon this stage in front of all these people, that's why you open your mouth and sing.
A single spotlight beats down, gripping your flesh.
And you love it.
Spotlight • Opuss № I