No
words came out of my mouth! I was completely blinded by the powerful
spotlight in the auditorium. The music, along with my heartbeat, was
thundering in my ears. My mind was a complete blank.
At
the age of four, I stood in front of a bunch of older women at a
women’s conference. I had been volunteered by my mom to sing a song
she had made me practice for a long time. I knew this song inside and
out. I wasn’t scared. I felt important, even proud. When I stood
and turned to the audience, I knew I could do this.
There
isn’t much that I feel that I was good at. Every single time I
start to think that this is something that I can excel at, it always
turns out to be just another thing that I’m average at.
I
started writing stories when I was about six years old. I loved to
write, to create stories that nobody else had thought of. To write
something that people will remember. I always wanted to be good at
writing. Actually to be better than good. I’ve always wanted be
great at writing.
My
brain screamed at me to start singing. I was a second behind the
music but finally the words came out. I willed my voice not to shake
as I increased my volume so the people in the back of the auditorium
could hear me. A high note crossed my throat. I was so nervous that
my voice would break. It took all my might not to quit right then.
I
couldn’t help but smile as the old women seemed to enjoy my
singing. I closed my eyes when I got to the high notes. They were
always difficult for me to hit, even with my already high pitched
voice. But I hit them. I opened my eyes after to see some of the
women smiling. But also I saw one woman giggle.
High
school was the time that I finally gave up on singing and acting.
Writing had become a sanctuary for me. I discovered a great way for
me to express myself was to write down anything that came to mind.
When high school started I decided to join the newspaper, now that my
other interests had dissolved from my life. I was given the opinion
column of the paper, giving me the power to write whatever I wanted.
I finally felt that I was at a place where I could be great at what I
wanted to do.
I
was cut off in the middle of my song.
Thank
you. That was good,” the voice from the back of the auditorium
announced. I heard an applause. However, I didn’t pay attention.
All I could think about was those words he announced. That
was good.
I admit it wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for. Granted, I forgot
the song for a half a second, but I did start to sing. Was that what
made it only good?
I
had no idea what I should do now that I came to the decision to give
up on singing. I dug deep and started to think about what I wanted to
do with my life. High school was the place to explore passions that
we all have but haven’t been tapped yet. What do I like to do? What
am I passionate about?
I was in the play, and many more after that. I was in the ensemble
cast. I quit!
I
don’t want to be average.
