Wednesday January 22nd, 2014

The exercise:

Write about: the performer.

Took Max back to StrongStart this morning and he had his usual blast. It was more crowded than usual but he had no trouble either entertaining himself or playing with others. Plus, once he's fully comfortable, he really does love to have a crowd to perform for.

Mine:

A spotlight so bright it burns a hole in the stage, its beam glittering and beckoning but it's still a cage. Relax, calm down - I'm not about to fly into a rage. Out there, before all those waiting fans and critics and bored dates, is where I earn my wage.

And it's a good one, I'll be the first to admit. But it requires so much, I must fully commit. Every single night I start again, it's all on the line; I can make it, or I can lose it.

The pressure never leaves. My career, my life depending on what everyone else perceives. I can only pray that they are honest, not petty little thieves.

So why do I do it, why don't I walk away? Why do I dance so dangerously close to becoming one more tired old cliche? I've thought about it, part of me is dearly tempted, but I delay, I delay. I could lie to you, pretend I'll escape one day, but I know I'll always stay.

What can I say? I don't know any other way.