CONFLICTED

Chapter 38| Disaster

Lyrics to go: No forget by AG feat Simi.

Chapter 38: Disaster

Tracy

I gripped the microphone hard and envisioned my moment of shame. I would let out a shy giggle and feign some amount confidence. Singing was my thing, my life. But looking at an audience of people with standards higher than the heels I lied to have had, just to get back at Michael's comebacks, was scary in the painful game of what ifs.

What if I don't sound good? What if my voice cracks? What if they thought I was trying to show off? What if I go out of tune? What if I made a wrong choice, choosing music as a university course and career? What if my life is a waste of time?

After going through the what ifs in my head, I would then sing in a scrawny voice and be embarrassed in front of them. And after thinking all the possible worst case scenarios, I would have my confidence and self-esteem stripped down to zero if not minus.

I garnered an incident like that happened once before. Back in school, a student was usually picked to lead the worship and praise sessions with two other chapel perfects. I was never chosen in my entire six years stay at school simply because I was invisible to other students and teachers. All up until I was unexpectedly picked to begin the worship session with a song on a hot Monday morning.

Being conversant with a number of gospel songs that I could've simply chosen from, it's quite shocking that everything seemed to fly off my head at that very moment, leaving me with a blank slate. It didn't help that I also had to sing in front of my crush of the longest period, Chinedu.

Staring at hundreds of students that made up the secondary school body on the assembly ground was a foreboding moment with no sound leaving my lips for a stretch of time. My juniors laughing at my state had brought me to the edge of tears and having it rough with my nerves gone haywire, I finally forced out a few words from my patched throat and sang with a shaky voice that was as loud as a whisper. Subsequently, I'd bawled my eyes out in the restroom while Chioma consoled me till first period began.

Pause. No, literally, pause the reading. Ahem mm—–sorry, had to clear my throat. I know it's shitty of me, throwing you into confusing with my intrusion into this... well, narration of my nervous breakdown in that living room. But I just have to chip in something in my um... can't call it an article but a sort of journal.

And yeah, this person that's taken over the script is the present Tracy. Actually, I am the one who's been writing the script so I'm not entirely taking over anything.

Oof. Drifted off, sorry. This Tracy still tends to be talkative. And you might be wondering how old this Tracy is, who's been airing out her povs and has surprisingly made herself known.

I'm twenty years old.

Yes, I know how this story ends before you even came across the book on wattpad, but for the sake of suspense and sake of not getting decapitated and buried by the others, I need to keep secrecy of any hot gist you want to hear from this future girl.

Oh my God, just look at that, I drifted off again. I only digressed a bit to explain my nervous breakdown and possible heart attack in there about three years ago. You could say I preferred my readers understood that teenage version of me, hence my little nosiness here.

At that point in time, I felt like a debater, for example, who's had all of her points and arguments carefully scripted out and memorized days before but on getting to the podium and seeing the mass that was her audience, fear takes over and leaves her with nothing.