It's easier to get on show business...the hard part is to maintain. Nobody stays famous forever.-Chris Rock

   That quote echoes through my brain, leaving slight traces of worry. It is written on a sticky note, attached to the mirror showing my reflection. But, my usual confident attitude shines through the dark inevitable future of me fading from the world of fame.

  Some say that you sign a contract with the devil when you pursue fame and so called success. My devil, narcissitic, and controlling, sat in a chair next to me, lecturing me before a show that would be either the fall of my career, or the turning point. My goal is to be an innovative figure who changes boundaries and breaks through common perception. But the devil, A.K.A Tom White has other plans. He had already changed my look, a little, no more hats for me.

   I frown as Mr.Evans also known as Zachariah, argues with Tom. Tom's main goal is for me to be successful, but Evans wanting me to focus on my studies as to have a more sturdy future. I sigh, as Zora comes behind me and starts braiding my hair back into cornrows. Lawrence and Larry, my choreographers, rush into the small room, where I sit at the vanity table, and Zachariah, with Tom at the small uncomftorable couch. Lawrence, obviously nervous as his voice raises an octave, "One of the dancers broke his leg." I rub my temples starting to answer, "Is there an-" As if on cue, Tom interrupts, "Zora knows the choregraphy, and she is great dancer. She'll do fine. How many minutes before showtime?" I look at Larry who stands next to his twin awkwardly, as Zora hurriedly applies blush to my face.

  Larry looks down at his watch, obviously not able to concentrate as the crowd starts roaring with screams and hoots. When he finally answers that we only have five minutes, I bite my lip, earning a hiss from Zora who had just applied some lip gloss. I look at her apologetically, as Tom finally just waves Zachariah off, and walks over to me, his strides short and quick, "Okay, Sno, this concert is going to either be influential, and breath taking, or uncoordinated and remembered forever in history as bad." I gulp, "Well thanks. I feel so much better." Tom smiles, as if he doesn't even know the definition of sarcasm.

I adjust my red knee highs, before lacing up my signature black combat boots. Zachariah, sighs as Tom glares at him and points at me. Probably suggesting that he wish me luck before the big show. Zachariah was hired as my tutor when I started becoming famous and I couldn't go to public school. But, Mr.Evans as I call him, has never been very keen with me being so famous, when still in school. Zachariah, walks over to me, and gives a firm nod, "You believe you can. You do so, and we celebrate at your victory. Okay, Snowflake?" I nod, smiling at the cute nickname he gave me, when we first met. Mr.Evans always believes that failure, has never really been existent in my life. He says whenever I do something that seems like a fail: "Trial and error, Snowflake. Failure is the path the success. Again."
Zora finishes my hair and makeup and runs to get dressed for the show, taking an outfit off one of the clothes racks and running into a bathroom.

It isn't long before I'm practically pushed onto the stage by Tom, as he gives me a thumbs up. I smile at the screaming crowd, "HELLO NEW YORK!"

  I point at the drummer who starts me off with the beat for one of my songs, "Lying." The ambiance of the crowd screaming, I can't even hear myself think, I realize that this would be the first time I performed in such a big crowd, not helping my anxiety. I feel a heavy weight, sit on my chest, and big lump form in my throat, as if I  couldn't sing. I have practiced this so many times, I can't afford to mess this up. The crowd's vast majority of the crowd breaths hard, making it laborious for me to breath myself. The steady beat of my heart, booms in my ears, as if I can only hear the crowd in the background and my heart is my center of attention. I stare at the crowd, frozen.