Sta.sh
I'm just the one who smiles
Just so you do, too
I'm the one who's laughing
Standing right behind you
I'm the one hiding from the spot light
Just so someone else can have it
I'm the one who keeps it all inside
Just to make room for you
I'm just the one who is never happy
Just appears that way
I'm the one with scars on my arms
Just to be better
I'm the one you'll never understand
No matter how much you want to
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I hope you like it though 
Why is life such torture, you know?
I felt understood around one person- they made me feel the best. But they also made me feel the worst without knowing it- and when they found out, everything became horrible again. But she's still there for me. Thank God for my angel.
Every year from 7th to 9th year, we did this excesice where we stood somewhere in the stage where we felt comfortable. The stage is huge, like in a real theatre. Only that there are two floors and no balcons.
The first year, I decided somewhere in the middle and a bit to the left was the right place. I was eager, anxious, seventh grader with 13 years of bad experiences. I knew that the group was going to get used to me, my delusions and illusions and insanity moments. Middle-left was my way of saying: "I won't take the lead, but I'm also counting to be noticed. I kinda need this, guys."
Second year was a little more intense. More than half the group left and we were only 8. I looked at the place I used to feel comfortable. This year, it was the right side. Something I never understood but I will soon. I was the youngest still but this year I felt I was treated as an equal and not only an extra that appears a minute in one scene. I had to learn a whole script in Ionescos' ridicule version of life.
Last year I did looked for a place to settle, it wasn't far away from the publico. I was there, not in the center, but I was on front. I wasn't the pup anymore. I was amongst the eldest and treated with respect. Sadly, that was the end of many things. I never had the chance to settle anymore, but I did it in my head anyways. Where do I belong? Is it my time to advance and ignore the stares like nothing matters?
11th grade was the last year I went to perform. It was mine, I was given monologues with and without words, I was counted on, I was even doing what the director missed. I had to arrange the settings to make a awful play to go on. But I had it on me. The spotlight shines bright, it makes you blind and you can't see much. You can feel the heat of the light involving inside you. It's like you transorm yourself into something else. You turn out to be your character. It's as if the light makes you forget your name and gives you another one. It's beautiful.
No one dared to tell me something, 'cause in the end, I was doing it good. I knew the tricks and articulations, the volume and the ways of making suspense and how to break it. If you know which your spot is, settle there and wait until you find something else nicer. Then you take that nicer spot. It's the way life is. So had it been written, so it shall be done.