The Moment I Saw You

Breathe

As if it's that easy. As if I haven't been doing just that for the last 21 years.

I'm gasping, and the voice in my head is screaming Breathe.

The room is spinning as I stand on the stage. My hands are shaking.

My voice is breaking, and how do I stop this pain in my chest?

My thoughts are racing, but the fear that I'm facing isn't so easy to forget.

Think

Think about what. What could possibly distract me from the hundreds of

people waiting on my voice? As if I have a choice in where my head's at

right now. How do I say the words that I didn't even want to write when all

I want to do is take flight - leaving this room, with these people who will

judge my every word. "Hey, I've heard of that girl. She's the one who can't

speak in front of a crowd." that's one comment to make my parents proud.

Speak

Speak about the trauma and the drama that I was forced to write? As If I

want to bare my soul to these people I don't know. "You have to present or

you won't pass." says my professor. I didn't even want to take this class.

The words are stuck in my throat, as the crowd's eyes will me to start. No

one wants to be there when that girl falls apart.

BANG!!

The auditorium door slams open, as a man runs into the room following

the boom. Everyone's focus shifts, including my own, which lands on the

guy's deep emerald green eyes. The words that previously would have been

a stutter instead come out smoothly. In my stomach, there are flutters -

from the nerves or the only man in the room whose face I see clearly, I

wonder.

Speak

Oh, back to this again. As if it worked the first time. But, when I look into

his eyes across the room, my hands stop shaking. It's the opposite of

breathtaking, his gaze steadies my voice, and suddenly the words start

coming out. All the while, I focus on his face, his lips, his subtle smile. My

words come out clearer than I thought they could, and for once I don't feel

like I'm in a rush, as my cheeks and arms begin to blush. My speech comes

to an end, and like that, I am done, not even sure when I had really begun.

Him

I walk off the stage, unable to gauge the reaction of the crowd. I don't care

because I am finally finished. His eyes dance across my vision, and I'm no

longer here. As I walk by the lecture room window I pear in, in fear that

this might be my last glance at him. My eyes meet him and I'm in a trance.

I force my feet to move. If we meet again it will be by chance.