I performed my monologue today. It was really fun. I hadn’t performed (acted) for anyone in two years, so when it was my turn, I wasn’t sure how ready I was. However, the result was great, my teacher loved it and so did the rest of the class.

The monologue was about a British girl who is told she has cancer by her doctor. She’s sitting in the doctor’s office and basically she just talks about how she feels about it. Obviously, it’s a dramatic piece. I wrote it, but I didn’t want my teacher or my class to know. So I didn’t say anything. In fact, I was very “mum” about the whole thing. However, my teacher became curious, which I had hoped to avoid.

“So tell me–who wrote that? I’ve never heard it before. It was beautifully written. I mean, wow…” and she went on and on before I could even answer. So I felt like a real airhead because there she was, praising my work, filling my mind with wonderful thoughts about my work, and I was about to tell her:

“…I did.”

Let me tell you, I have never experienced what I experienced today. Sitting in a chair in the center of a classroom, surrounded by well over 30 pairs of eyes, confessing to be author of a short piece of literature, and have everyone all at once lean forward about two feet in my direction. I never understood the fear of small spaces until that moment.

Anyways, it was great. Got a bunch of pats on the back. It was fun. I hope to do it again sometime.

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