by Laura (website)
233 words (1.5-2 minutes)Sometimes when I'm all alone, I pull my clothes tight like spandex around my body and pretend I'm a model. A model or a musician...A star on television; lip-synching my favorite songs in my bathroom...Glossing-up my lips and curling my lashes I am triumphant. For it is in solitude that I celebrate my insanity. Sure, I could dress up for the world to see, I could show you ALL that I am not just the girl in the corner... But who cares? I really don't...and I know you don't.
Oh, baby, I'm high on life, totally buzzed with the feeling that I am free...I can dance, and I can sing...And I can run away from here...nothing-doing....I can be whatever, whomever I want to be, I can be you as I point to you in my audience. I have the control as you gladly listen to me rambling...but you know what? I'd rather do it all alone, or when nobody's watching... Because I am not a model, and I'm not a music-video star on Emmy-TV. Hell, I don't even make sense...but you know what? I'm free, and I can dance or sing or talk to you for hours...Or I could sit down right here...and shut up...because you'll never see what's happening in here. Through my finger and into my brain. Through my finger and into my heart. You'll never see what's inside of me.