So this is it

My shaking hands felt the scratches in the varnished wooden floor boards. A lot of people had paced and bustled over these floors. Dust bunnies and salt from the sidewalks made them gritty to the touch. My legs were splayed out carelessly as I leaned on one hip. I was merely a collapsed lump on the floor. I was totally unconcerned that my ensemble was black and that I was probably going to be full of floor silt when I decided to stand up. Didn't matter. Not right then.

With little wells of tears wobbling on my lower lids and tiny tear drops resting in my lower lashes.... I looked around the green room. I sniffled and tried to catch my breath. Band stickers and graffiti littered the walls and mirrors. A lot of people who share the same dream had made their mark. I kicked myself thinking, "Man... I wish I had a sharpie or something to plaster my name up there with the rest of them."

It would have been a great night to be a vandal.

Loud music, teaming voices, and a gallery of sounds slammed up against the other side of the door. The noise was sneaky. No escape. It crept in through the crack underneath the door just to antagonize me.

I looked around again, just sitting in that pile of myself. Slow motion. Everything ran in slow motion. I was thankful for my luck and blessings... my God, I'm so lucky.... but I couldn't help dwell on the reality that there was always going to be something trying to bring me down. The higher up you go... the more potential energy you gain. It's like an elevator. You're heavier going up. There's just more pull on you to bring you down. You can either accept it and proceed or you play it safe on the ground. Something had just tried to drag me to hell. In that moment, I was trying to decide if I was going to let it.

I wiped my eyes. "No more of this, Danielle. You're tough," I thought. Black streaks of mascara smeared across my index finger. "Aw crap." I looked in the mirror and tried to fix the mess I'd made. Hopeless. I looked like a blubbering, blonde raccoon. I fussed with my hair, powdered my now pink nose, and tried to blink away the sadness in my eyes. I had work to do. Brave face. It didn't matter what happened to make me feel this way. It comes with the territory and the show must go on. This is what will separate me from the faint of heart. This attitude will keep me in the game. I'd lick my wounds later when I had time to myself...

DB