The Last Time I Sang
Why I Stopped Singing.
Me In An Alternate Universe?
When I was 15, like everyone around me, I started exploring my hobbies and abilities. Motivated by the passion to succeed, I tried dancing, but the twisted ankle was enough for me to say no. The next on my list was singing.
It was definite to say I wasn’t gifted, but still, I couldn’t help but record demos of myself on my android and send them to my friends, something at which we laugh as of now.
Of course, they were supportive, which I have to admit is either ignorance on their side or mine.
Nevertheless, I was determined to improve, and because American Idol was not an option, my only resolve was the Music Society at my school.
My hands laminated in sweat, I sat on the small stool in the middle of the room. Seniors all around me, the air covered in cold, thick silence, as I sang a cover of ‘Wrecking Ball’ By Miley Cyrus for them. Suddenly, the floor and walls looked so beautiful.
Though I promised myself, the nerves really made me put up a fight that day as I found myself somewhat crying rather than displaying my vocal abilities.
And that’s when lightning struck. Shock coated all my features as I read through the bulletin board the next morning, containing the list of the shortlisted candidates. I was one of the two people who got selected from my grade. I still believe they pitied me or something.
The following day, I was pulled out in the middle of class to audition for a school event where singing was required. The assigned teacher summoned me to her room and her first question was “How did you get selected?”, To which I found no answer.
Nonetheless, they proceeded with me and soon the dreadful day arrived. I found myself in front of about 400 people, fidgeting my feet, waiting for my moment to shine.
Everyone looked so small from here. My friends, my teachers, my crush. I repeated all the motivational phrases I had memorized the night before, alongside the occasional regret for not being able to refuse.
As the spotlight blanketed me, it was time to sing. Let’s just say I displayed something similar to singing. We won’t bully 15-year-old me today. All the faces in front of me that day simply cease to exist in my memory, replaced by the exact shade of the stage.
As I was in the middle of my vocal glory, I heard a few giggles here and there. Still, I kept my cool and was proud that I at least finished without having to puke in the middle of my debut.
As soon as the nightmare was over, I rushed backstage to the room overlooking the audience. Grateful to God, the door was tainted with a small hole, which directly projected me my crush’s face, whose reaction I was desperate to see. 'Did he like it?’, He had to like it. But what I saw was far from the truth.
I saw him tittering with his friends while mocking the way my hands shook as I held the mike. I was a joke.
And then it didn’t matter that everyone laughed anymore, nor that I was starting to love singing.
That’s the first time my heart broke, and the last time I sang.
