My heart pounded, making my entire chest pulse. I felt the familiar texture of the velvet curtains. I felt the string and pulley system and I saw the hustle and bustle of the night. I knew they expected a lot, but perhaps more important, I knew I expected a lot. I wanted to show everyone in the theater I could do one thing really well. I felt adrenaline pump into my veins. My entire body felt the stage. I felt the familiar things: fear, excitement, and embarrassment. Tonight there was something else in the air. It was potential. I could tell there wasn't one person on this stage that hadn't fought to be here. We wanted it. We needed it like an addict needs a needle, like a candle needs its flame. I needed this more than anything else. I heard the piano practice its piece with nervous fingers. I heard the familiar shake of a singer’s voice from the nerves. Did this make me nervous? No. This made me know the rest of the performers cared as much as I do. I enjoyed the sound of the mistakes. It made me feel better about my own performance. It let me know I wouldn't be alone.


I am not perfect, but perfection is an idiotic standard. It is a requirement many set to achieve; some even wasting their lives to find it. Perfection is a poison. It is the opposite of a high. Perfection is a food you force down your own throat but never swallow. Perfection is something you expect but never achieve. I believe it is better if I don't achieve it. It lets me know I remain human. I remain unique; but not different. I remain the same; but never a duplicate. I remain me. I saw faces filled with make-up and costumes larger than life. I saw beauty in the artistic ways of the performers. I saw the grace and tasted the feeling of passion. A familiar taste for an actor. As the lights started to dim, and the crowd started a low hush I knew it was time. I waited for the screech of the curtains being pulled back. As I heard the sound I put one foot forward. I put one foot forward into the unknown.