when i was seven, i took my hello kitty microphone and sung my favorite song. i tried to follow the song, pouring out my heart to the lyrics, trying to hit every note, in front of you. i danced, acting like i was on a stage in front of millions of fans, but in reality it was seven of my stuffed animals, mom, and you. i finished the song and you laughed. you laughed like it was the funniest thing you had ever seen. mom clapped, and i was embarrassed. i left the room and cried. i cried like i never cried before. i vowed to never sing again.
when i was eleven, i took dance. i loved dancing more than anything before. we had a dance recital after christmas. i put my everything into it. i did every move on time and everyone clapped but you. you laughed. i had practiced all year, i worked so hard on it. only for you to laugh. i vowed to never face again.
i pour my heart into everything to impress you. i played piano, did theatre, drew for hours, i tried everything only for you to laugh. everything i did was a joke.
i was just a joke.
