Am I allowed to miss it?

Let it be known, I hate performing. The buildup, the sensation, I hate the feeling. The way the crowd stares, the way it applauses as if it cares. The preparation of my piece, the disturbance of my inner peace. The constant rehearsing, repeating words written down, all for that hand clapping sound. The beating of my heart, the way I feel before I start. The deal I made … a new piece per show, the amount of work I’m unable to let go. The constant search for new words, the constant allowing into my world. The praise received after it all. The way my ego and self brawl. I hate performing. I don’t like how it makes me look, I don’t like how I read or the time it took. I don’t like any of it. The feedback, the negative critique on the way that I speak. The way I try to become better after every show. The effort and drive it takes to let simple words glow. People speak to me as if I did something great. Feels like a pat on the back of my hate. It feels weird, sometimes unable to cope. I act my ass off and people call it dope. I hate performing. I give them my heart but they’re barely listening. I lay bare my soul but they aren’t looking. Seem to like me more than my words so I’m cool by default. Feel safe in the dark but the stage has the key to the vault. This is only half of what I feel, so much more I could mention. But with all this and more, I am left with one question.

Am I allowed to miss it?

Am I???

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