Personal Narrative: If I Break My Bedroom

My ears ring as the old school bus screeches to a halt. We hop off, and a dry, winter gust smacks my face. Instantly, the frigid wind sends my nose running. Walking towards the back door of the school, I grasp the cold metal handle, open it, and slam a piece of wood underneath to keep it ajar. After we become accustom to the cold shock, Mrs. Cimenski, our director, orders us to haul the heavy wooden tables and a set of four lockers toward our designated backstage area. We obtain many scratches and bruises as we struggle through multiple doors and cotton curtains. Our banged bodies collect the makeup and costumes and begin a brisk walk to our assigned classroom. As soon as we enter the room, chaos reigns.
Objects soar from one end of the room …show more content…
The tension swells as the clock ticks down. I attempt to relax my body, but my thoughts dart from one worst case scenario to another. What if I forget one of my lines? Do I run off like a child? Or do I stay and face public humiliation? What if I fall of the stage? What if I break my leg? What if I die?? Cimenski, frazzled, has us sit in an oval on the musty carpet floor to begin our vocal warm ups and line gunning, breaking my chain of thoughts. We practice precise pronunciation and articulation and a short while later finish with an energy circle. Crouching, we softly chant, “energy.” Slowly rising our bodies, we chant louder and louder, almost reaching a scream and going insane, until our bodies drain completely of our nervous energy. We settle back down onto the floor and have a few minutes to ourselves. Time travels too fast. We rise and make our way down the endless hallways toward the stage. Unforgettable thoughts begin to trickle back into my head. Nerves flutter back into my …show more content…
Beads of sweat begin to collect on my forehead, and I wipe my clammy palms repeatedly along my pants. My cue line meets my ears. I prepare myself for public humiliation. A timpani pounds inside my head, but I force my brain to be positive. Through this process, I realize that I have put months of dedication and hard work into this performance that lead up to this very moment. Every one of my lines hang at the tip of my tongue, waiting patiently like a feline stalking prey.
As I force my stiff body to move, I stumble onto the stage and am immediately blinded by the bright lights. Despite this, my first line rolls perfectly off of my tongue, and the tension recedes. My blood begins to flow. My breaths normalize. A comfortable feeling controls my movements. Transforming fully into my character, I feel empowered. The audience, my thoughts, my nerves, nothing can distract me now. I am no longer trying to survive this performance; I am living