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The Spotlight’s On Me.

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I live my life like a huge audience is watching me. So huge an audience that not even the Berlin Olympic stadium wont contain them. They watch me. Everyday, whether I’m picking my nose or washing my socks. They stare at me at night, they see what I dream, how I curl up in to a ball to defend my body from the cold. Some hate me, but even they cant stop watching me and snickering at most inane things. Some love me and encourage me through the night when I’m terrified if being killed. Killed by laughter, by words and sometimes by a single wrong look from a wrong person. Their hate is my downfall and their applause my drug.

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I used to think the audience consist of the rest of the world. My parents, my classmates, my friends, random strangers I see on the streets. But it doesn’t. The entire Berlin stadium is filled with a single person. A person my life hangs on to with all it’s might. Loving it, hating it, clinging on to it with perspiration beaded on to my forehead and the skin of my hands chapped and raw. I realized my audience consisted of me in the middle of the night. It scared me stiff. Other people, I could deal with. But myself? What did I even know abut my self? What would please me? What would make me hate myself? I wish I knew… I wish I knew…

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