The Stage

So, there I was. A 15-year-old girl who was worrying about never having a boyfriend or having a cellphone. The realization of also having a neurological disorder was like driving a motorcycle on the freeway at 80 mph and then realizing there's a bee in your helmet. (I've never actually driven a motorcycle but I read that somewhere and I appreciate the panic it implies.) I wasn't sure how to handle it. So I did what any sane person would do. I lied to people and I kept it a secret. My parents kept trying to start conversations about it but I shrugged them off. No, I didn't want to see a psychologist. I couldn't go to physical therapy because I had drama practice after school. Yes, I feel fine. Can we talk about something else?

I've always admired myself with the amount of confidence I had. I really believed I could do anything I wanted and rarely doubted myself. Bad things were always someone else's fault because I wasn't capable of causing such things. I have no idea how or why this attitude sprouted up but I always remember having it. But for the first time the world was giving me the finger. I really couldn't do everything and this thought scared me the most. Suddenly, I started noticing my flaws because they really were flaws. I wasn't perfect. Far from it. I was normal and this above anything else terrified me. I loved and hated this transformation. It was like losing your innocence. I was sleeping while dreaming that the world was my stage. The lights, the applause, my grin. And then I woke up. And there were other people on the stage. Stealing my applause or having panic attacks behind the curtain. All the world is a stage. And I wasn't the lead or a minor character.

Time for auditions.