Pipedream

I had this dream as a kid.
It stemmed from practically growing up in a theater,
Watching my dad, grandma, and other various family members up on stage, with the lights shining on them and the audience cheering.
I couldn’t help imagining myself up there too.
I present my lines or sing Everything flawlessly, enough to make those watching cry, laugh, or both.
The costuming and staging always seems so entertaining and extravagant.
I’d help them rehearse lines and block out their movements,
All the while wanting to do it myself.
I even tried out for bit Parts as a kid, being turned down for every single opportunity.
I knew that was part of the deal, so that didn’t deter me.
What finally did show me how misplaced my dream of stagecraft was,
When my Studdard hit, and then my stage-fright trampled me with full force, flattening me into the dirt below its feet.
I could barely talk to one person at a time without tripping and stumbling over my words,
Let alone perform memorize lines in front of crowds fixated on my every movement and tone.
When all that happened, I let my dream of being an actor run away as fast as its little legs would carry it.
I’m sure it’s scuttled off into some far-off dark corner now.
Sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly introspective, all imagine trying to chase after it again.
Those moods never last long.

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