Fainting for Real | Teen Ink

Fainting for Real

February 18, 2010
By BroadwayBaby92 GOLD, Punta Gorda, Florida
BroadwayBaby92 GOLD, Punta Gorda, Florida
19 articles 0 photos 3 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Some women choose to follow men, and some women choose to follow their dreams. If you're wondering which way to go, remember that your career will never wake up and tell you that it doesn't love you anymore."
— Lady Gaga

Standing in the corner, I feel the room grow incredibly warm. Though the ice cold air bites victims outside, the window-panes fog and melt from the heat within.
Step-together, step, kick-ball-change, high kick, high kick, and step-together step. Again! My sides heave in and out, sweat pouring down my back in a disgusting, abominable waterfall. I loathe myself and I desperately smack my hands back and forth on my sweat-pant clothed legs, hoping to soak up some of the salty liquid. This can’t happen, no it can’t, I yell to myself. Slowly, my bangs melt and glue themselves to my tacky forehead as I start to breathe heavily. I feel disgusting, like an alien creature with some foreign disease shunning away all of the other less-sweaty and infected individuals. As a headache creeps into the depths of my skull I hear, “Again” echo through the room. The mirrors in front of me seem to spin as I start to feel a nauseous wave sweep over me.
I can’t do it I just can’t. He’ll hate it, he’ll loathe me, what should I do…I just can’t. What will he think, will he shun away, sneer in disgust? I don't want him to hate me. These phrases repeat over and over again in my head. Turning around I see him standing on the platform, long brown hair swept to the side and large mauve eyes piercing into mine. Here we go, I sigh to myself. I take my place as the song starts again. Desperately, I wipe my hands again to remove the excess sweat, carefully eyeing him to make sure he isn’t looking. The song starts blaring again. His head stealth-fully turns, eyes staring into my soul. Eyes locked, we move towards each other in long graceful strides as he tenderly grasps my right hand, placing in on the left side of his chest. Taking his other hand, he slowly caresses the side of my face as I fake swoon like I’m supposed to, "allegedly" overcome by his handsome-ness. The number continues, with the other dancers following the intricate choreography. When it comes to that spot in the music, a fellow cast-mate rushes up to revive me and I dash to where I’m supposed to. Though it may be part of the scene, his powerful presence makes me feel like fainting for real.

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