The stage is empty. The seats begin to fill. Soft music plays in the background. A boy waits patiently behind the stage. The audience is a blur of colors and sound. He sees none of it. Cues are given, and he walks out onto the stage. The audience stills in their seats. He rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, eyes never leaving his fellow companions. He can’t bear to look at the audience. He knows they are watching his every move. Waiting for him to make some sort of mistake. He needed a distraction. To no avail did he find one. Instead he had to wait for the music to start so he would be able to sing. And so, the concert began. The lights dimmed and immediately he was the center of attention again. Hot beads of sweat rolled down his face. The anxiety was getting the best of him. He looked down at his hands. The skin matched that of a pearl: smooth, pale, and untarnished. His fingers were slender and delicate. Perfectly manicured. He noticed there was a mic waiting in front of him. He grabbed it softly, the movement of his hands giving off a presence of elegance. He lifted the mic to his lips and began to sing. When it was the others’ turn, he dropped his arms to his sides and shoved his hands in his pockets. He saw his hands as an imperfection. They were too feminine and dainty. If he were to raise his fist at someone they would only laugh. He was weak. Fragile. He would rather hide his insecurities than walk around displaying them for the world to see, yet somethings were inevitable. To him they were an imperfection but to the audience before him they were a blessing. Every one of them wanted to be him. Perfect, or at least their definition of it. Where he saw imperfection, they saw beauty. This fact should have reassured him about his insecurities, but they only fueled his frustration. He was trapped. He was stuck performing like a circus monkey for an audience who could care less for his talent. They just wanted to see the show. These people didn’t love him. They loved his appearance. Even though in his mind he is just doll put on display for all to see, he finds a strong sense of power in being about to   deprive them of something they wanted to see. Even if to him, they were just his ugly hands.