Try

I look into your eyes and I see that conviction. That conviction to succeed and the same conviction that tells me I am a failure. Hurtful hazel eyes that look right pass me like I am noone. Well, someone, just not a singer.

Open the mouth; just not the right way. A lyric comes out; just not the right word. A tone comes out; just not the right note. A sound comes out; just not the right dynamic. I see your fear. The mouth gets smaller, the lyric gets more blurred, the tone gets more flat and the sound gets softer. Useless dead weight, how can you call yourself a singer, much less anything more?

They can’t even hear you anymore. You can’t even hear yourself.

How do you expect those standing bodies to see you when you can’t look at yourself? The noise will stare back at you. The silence of the room will scream at you. Your hands tremble at your own reproach. Your body’s in a fetal position. Your face wetted and dried.

How can I be confident when I am the one who sees my failures most clearly?

Jealousy does not look good on you. Green is not your color. I saw you peering at your score just now. Toxic thoughts of how other notes seem to be easier. It’s funny because you know, in your core, it is not true. Yet, you envy. Stupid.

Focus, think, try, try, try,try,TryTryTRY! Fuck! Try as many times it takes! Then, succeed.