The lights are panning the stage, and I’m hidden by the darkness. They’re all waiting for me. My heart beat is steady. That’ll change when I walk to the front of the stage and show myself, but it’s what they want: me; the person they jump up and down for, who they watch in awe wanting to be. Me: famous, fabulous and funny; cool, calm and collected; hyper, happy and humble. I could go on, but I’ve got a show to perform.
They cheer when I come forward, and the lights focus on me. They love me . . . the whole fucking world loves me.
Short bio: Ellen Santana works as an event organiser and likes to write about what she sees.