I begin speaking trying to sound confident when I know I am not. People say “It’s not that hard.” I say “You know you’re right, it’s like riding a bike. That’s on fire. And that bike that is on fire is going off a cliff. And that bike that is on fire that is going cliff is falling into a pit of spikes. I wanna say you’re right, but you are wrong. See this isn’t because I’m just bad at it. It’s because it’s fear.

My voice shaking like I’m about to cry even if it is happening on the inside. Though I don’t try, I get faster and faster even if it feels like I’ve been speaking for an eternity. Tumbling over my words as if they were dominoes and stuttering beyond belief. My legs shaking, my arms shaking, my hands shaking, my body trembling. It’s because it’s fear.

You all staring, judging, thinking to yourselves is what scares me the most. I think to myself as I say it out loud “What do they think of me, a classmate or a friend or an athlete or an idiot.” Though we don’t think of it as we all stand up here on this stage we are being thought of. Everyone getting a good look at us like some kind of abstract attraction. Even though we as classmates or friends or athletes or idiots don’t want to judge we can not because we are human. This is what I fear.