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My lungs refuse to draw air, knowing breath will result in words.
Darkness envelops me, develops me, an itchy wool blanket, threatening to swallow me whole.
My fingers are trembling, shaking, an antenna in a rainstorm.
My knees, magnets, attracting and repelling.
Sweat forms on my hairline.
My heart thunders, wonders in my chest.
Lightning strikes, a flash of brilliance in the dark.
My legs move, despite my heart's desperate pleading, needing.
Stop. Stay. Be still.
My body gravitates to the spotlight.
I long for familiar sounds of the stage, music of home. The wooden shank of pointe shoes echoing in the auditorium. Bare feet kissing, missing the floor as I float from stage right to stage left.
My black heels stop, center stage.
The spotlight floods my surroundings, concealing the audience. The audience that no longer exists.
My lips, just inches from the microphone, open slightly, a narrow doorway to my thoughts.
And I speak.