Under the spotlight of the stage, I was so caught up in not choking on my own words as I delivered my speech, knowing that this was probably the only time I’d ever get this much attention again. I don’t think I could tell you what their faces looked like: who was in the audience or what expressions they wore. But I wanted to make it count. As I finished reading off my notes, I wanted to jump off the stage as fast as possible. I didn’t register the applause, if there really was any. The attention was suffocating. Everyone was watching my every move. The moment I stepped across the stage, I noticed how dark it really was. Relying on the faintest of outlines, I teetered across the stage (I wasn’t about to look like an idiot, so I jogged). Everything was fine until I got to the stairs, my arch-nemesis. “Oh, god!” I spat out as I missed a step and slid the rest of the way down. I was torn between basking in the concerned faces of my classmates, who normally never looked at me twice, as they helped me up, and shying away from everyone else who looked at me like, who is this girl?