THE SECRETS WE KEEP.

- A SECRET NO ONE KNOWS (PART 2).

JOES POV:
That in the wings wait is a sure guarantee to plunge the nerves beyond their breaking point. While the glitzy shower-style curtain disguises your identity to just a shadowed figure, the vibrates radiating off the crowds intense applauds and praises still shake the floor beneath our feet, dying slowly to a respectable volume until all heard is the judges critiques. Everybody wishes to fulfil their expectations on a scoreboard, but if this happens to become a reality for the person ahead of you, the pressure settling upon your shoulders to continue the level of standard is even stronger. Whereas on the other hand, if the hopeful score does not mirror their reality, there is still that sense of pressure evident at the uncertainty of the judges moods.

Following the beautiful message from Dianne as a boost to my confidence, it only felt natural to express this gratitude in the form of little signs of affection, through either hand holding or tight grips on one another's waist. It became clear at that moment that these certain aspects were something I had been so desperately missing without knowing it for the longest time. Minutes had flown into one another, performance after performance for our personal viewing with an internal counting down clock to remember our turn and now, the feared inevitable moment where the countdown hits one had arrived and alike my previous admitting to Dianne, this bricking it was staring me in the face. Peering out through the curtain slit onto the wide stage, lights of various colours shining upon it to create an illusion of slippy spots, and the vast audience, occupied by potiental judging humans whos tweets and messages articulating opinions could persuade another against me, an assortment of feelings hardly able to be listed were initiating an overwhelming take-over however my heart was situated perfect to catch the sinking. My pounding heart, inaudible to my ears but to all surroundings must have been thundering for without a word spoken Dianne's palms rested against my shoulders and her eyes bored back into mine as she slowly ran her hands along my slender neck to cup around both my cheeks. "I believe in you, I always have, you can do this..", her words, a quiet whisper yet still able to make a distinctable impact on my mental train of overcrowding thoughts. I nodded along unable to let a word slip, too mesermised by the beautiful haze of mud brown devising her pupils, each with a single fleck of gold hidden within.

Our names called and the crew's signature hand signal to whisk ourselves out onto the stage arose faster than expected, Dianne and I parting our separate ways due to the varying starting positions, these orbs fixated on only her as the rainbow shaded tassels of her dress swished in either direction with each step she took to the side of the hall. I sat myself at the drum kit, admiring how in a matter of seconds the majority of an audience could be enchanted by the trancing world of social media, those blaring white rectangles producing a design on their faces distracting them entirely of my entrance. Out of the corner of my eye a bouncing shadowy figure, distinguishable as Dianne, communicated encouragement through two thumbs up and a wide smile just as the music choir shifted in their chairs at the rear pending Tess' announcement to begin. All of a a sudden, each stage light aroused from their dosey sleep to highlight my arrival to this formerly unaware audience. It was the moment of true, the time to prove that despite the struggles I was prepared to work through them in order to succeed.

The familiar hums of Hanson's opening electrified all in this vicinity, myself included, into a state of total joy - the music style providing spurts of happiness all around, recalling fond memory's from times where perhaps a festival event could go ahead, a time of which clothing choices did not reflect an internal fear of frostbite. I abandoned the drum set in order to meet Dianne in the middle of the floor, a twinkle glistening in her right eye that was just set alight, one containing enough power to start a thousand forest fires by only touch. This display of elation combining with the thumping beats provided me with a sense of enjoyment in my actions, the swaying of hips and spinning Dianne on one hand had started to become a more natural activity rather than it feeling inhuman. As the music deepened to its ending, I slowly began to feel more like myself in this dance, a small smile spreading across my lips in the process in comparison to the typical 'turtle mouth' I adorn in concentration - a fact only realised because of the competition. I skipped up the staircase just in time to lift my sticks in the air to the final beat. The reaction from the crowd astounded me utterly, standing ovations with acclamations galore, while Dianne was performing a mini dance in a circle that made me chuckle at her silliness.