Slammed

life
     
    a little backwards.
     
    And how to laugh
     
    At what you would think
     
    is un-laughable.
     
     
     
    I got schooled this year
     
    By a Band!
     
    They taught me how to find that feeling of feeling again.
     
    They taught me how to decide what to be
     
    And go be it.
     
     
     
    I got schooled this year.
     
    By a cancer patient.
     
    She taught me so much. She's still teaching me so much.
     
    She taught me to question.
     
    To never regret.
     
    She taught me to push my boundaries,
     
    Because that's what they're there for.
     
    She told me to find a balance between head and heart
     
    And then
     
    she taught me how …
     
     
     
    I got schooled this year
     
    By a Foster Kid
     
    She taught me to respect the hand that I was dealt.
     
    And to be grateful I was even dealt a hand.
     
    She taught me that family
     
    Doesn't have to be blood.
     
    Sometimes your family
     
    are your friends.
     
     
     
    I got schooled this year
     
    By my teacher
     
    He taught me
     
    That the points are not the point,
     
    The point is poetry …
     
     
     
    I got schooled this year
     
    By my father.
     
    He taught me that hero's aren't always invincible
     
    And that the magic
     
    is within me..
     
     
     
     
     
    I got schooled this year
     
    by
     
    a
     
    Boy.
     
    a boy that I'm seriously, deeply, madly, incredibly, and undeniably in love with.
     
    And he taught me the most important thing of all …
     
    To put the emphasis
     
    On life.
     
    The feeling that comes over you, when you're in front of an audience? All those people craving for your words, yearning to see a glimpse into your soul…it's exhilarating. I thrust the microphone back into the emcee's hands and run off the stage. I look around but don't see him anywhere. I look at the booth we sat in on our first date, but it's empty. I realize, after standing there, waiting to be swept off of my feet-that he's not even here. I spin around in a circle, scanning the room a second time. A third time. He's not here.
     
    The same fleeting feeling I had on that stage, on his dryer, in the booth in the back of the room-it's gone. I can't do it again. I want to run. I need air. I need to feel the Michigan air against my face.
     
    I throw open the door and take a step outside when a voice, amplified through the speakers, stops me in my tracks.
     
    "That's not a good idea," he says into the microphone. I recognize his voice, and that repetitive phrase.
     
    I slowly turn around and face the stage. Will is standing there, holding the microphone between his hands, looking directly at me.
     
    "You shouldn't leave before you get your scores," he says as he motions to the judges table. I follow his gaze to the judges who are all turned around in their seats. All four of them have their eyes locked on me; the fifth seat is empty. I gasp as I realize Will was the fifth judge.
     
    So he saw me. He watched me do my piece.
     
    I sense that I'm floating again as I make my way to the center of the room. Everyone is quiet. I look around and all eyes are on me. No one understands what's happening. I'm not so sure I even understand what's happening.
     
    Will looks at the emcee standing next to him. "I'd like to perform a piece. It's an emergency ," he says.
     
    The emcee backs away and gives Will the go ahead. Will turns back to face me.
     
    "Three dollars," someone yells from the crowd.
     
    Will darts a look at the emcee. "I don't have any cash," he says.
     
    I immediately pull the two dollars in change out of my pocket and run to the stage, smacking it down in front of the emcees feet. He inspects the money I laid before him.
     
    "Still a dollar short," the emcee says.
     
    The silence in the room is interrupted as several chairs slide from under their tables. There is a faint rumble as people walk toward me. I'm surrounded, being pushed and shoved in different directions as the crowd grows thicker. It begins to disperse just as fast and the silence slowly returns as everyone makes their way back to their seats. I return my gaze to the stage, where dozens of dollar bills are haphazardly thrown at the emcees feet. My eyes follow along as a quarter rolls off the edge of the stage and falls onto the floor. It wiggles and spins as it comes to rest at my foot.
     
    The emcee is focused on the pile of money before him. " Okay ," he says. "I guess that covers it. What's the name of your piece, Will?"
     
    Will brings the microphone to his mouth and finds me