All Eyes

They played me back the video.

"Is that really what I sound like?"

"That's really what you sounded like then," they said. Which made me feel a little better.

All eyes had been on me, I remember as much. The room was mine, and not just because mine had been the night's only song in English. For every ounce of my un-talent I made up with a pound of my showmanship. I jumped, I danced, I put the mic in the faces of strange ladies. They clapped for me, they all had, every one.

But the video was on me, and all you could see was me. And how truly, truly terrible I was.