Invisible
Invisible
[first draft from 2015]
Summary: Normally invisible in public...but there comes a time where you want to be seen.
She is someone who never likes social gatherings or partying in claustrophobic clubs...yet here she is at a concert, standing with at least 600 people inside an intimate venue. The drenching sweat dripping from all around doesn't bother anyone in the pit. Only thing that matters is the music and the energy from the performance.
After an hour of clicking away she stops with the camera work as it is near impossible to get a good photo without having blurry objects in her view. Only thing that she can do is either cheer, applaud or wave. Screaming would never be first choice but tonight is an exception and she constantly yells out of excitement every 10 minutes.
The air changes when the leader asks who wants to come on stage to meet everyone. Hands fly up immediately. She tries to get her own hand up but instead receives two elbow strikes in the face from both sides. Ouch. Did some teeth wobble? Both eyes bulge and her cheeks burn as she struggles to confirm whether the teeth are in jeopardy at this very second. Nobody cares about pain. All they care about is vying for attention. She learns this evening to never trust anyone who tries to sweet talk or apologise in advance on pushing into neighbours by accident. It is a lie. A sign of bullshit to come along.
Since when did she get so enthusiastic and determined to grab a famous star's eye anyway? It wasn't even on the personal bucket list from a young age. She's someone who normally lives in the shadow, never wants to be in the spotlight or the centre of attention. Never likes to talk in front of a group and dislikes fighting, preferring the company of her own self. Gold stars never happened, no matter how hard she studied. It was always the person who asked for help that got the house points or certificates instead of her.
The opportunity to reach out to the artist is so rare. Not just through simple high fives, a grab of the sweat-driven shirt sleeve or fighting for a towel and a placard. She wants to thank them and tell them how much they've made an impact in life. Paid signing events or meet and greet sessions don't always come as often as tours but neither do the opportunities to suddenly go on stage at a concert.
But within a huge crowd of overzealous fans life seems small. She doesn't know whether she has a chance. This is the only concert and the final ever performance from the band tonight and she saved a lot of money to buy a ticket. She wanted to see how they looked in real life and not through a computer screen. But this is also her final concert attendance ever. She promised the family she'd stop going to concerts because they know it's a waste of money. This concert-going hobby is coming up to 4 years. Imagining how much was spent on tickets is always painful though the memories of hearing favourite songs live never fade.
Will the band see her? Of course not. She is just one of many fans. A faceless entity who is being hurdled into a venue to witness some entertainment for nearly two hours. She is simply a fellow Asian face as well. Not close to unique. No make-up. No highlights or surreal hair dye. No flamboyant clothes. A hobo against the the stylish youngsters of the millennia.
It's not this plain Chinese woman the band want to bring up on stage. It's that stunning European girl next to her who has amazing blonde hair, blue eyes and looking confident in a mini skirt and long sleeved shirt. Such cliché goddess features on a white woman. The ideal type for many people. This is one of the bitches who threw a punch without realising it but also the one who apologised in advance before the concert officially started, giving a warning she may be hurled into many directions by accident because of the mosh pit craziness.
Suddenly another girl is picked. A young Black girl oozing edgy coolness, perhaps on the same level of supposed exotic beauty as the European girl who got picked first. But then another girl gets to join the other two. It is a petite East Asian woman who appears a sassy model in her classy attire of tartan.
No matter how many times the blandly-dressed Chinese female raises her hand nobody sees it. Not one person hears her scream 'pick me' more than twice. Everyone is screaming their lungs out, some in protest over not being chosen to go on stage.
After ten minutes of endless shouting, she shrinks away. All the previous determination and subtle overconfidence from the early hours of the day deteriorates. She fooled herself so damn much. What a joke.
“You idiot,” she scolds herself quietly. “As if you stood a chance.”
As the acoustic session begins, everyone is silent. Nobody notices her disappointment and she walks away into the dark, budging past the attentive fans who focus their heart on the stage. The actual night isn't over yet. Maybe another thirty minutes to go. Curfew is 10.30 but who cares? Fulfilling one final deed to please the heart proved unsuccessful.
This is the final curtain. A promise is a promise.
[first draft from 2015]
Summary: Normally invisible in public...but there comes a time where you want to be seen.
She is someone who never likes social gatherings or partying in claustrophobic clubs...yet here she is at a concert, standing with at least 600 people inside an intimate venue. The drenching sweat dripping from all around doesn't bother anyone in the pit. Only thing that matters is the music and the energy from the performance.
After an hour of clicking away she stops with the camera work as it is near impossible to get a good photo without having blurry objects in her view. Only thing that she can do is either cheer, applaud or wave. Screaming would never be first choice but tonight is an exception and she constantly yells out of excitement every 10 minutes.
The air changes when the leader asks who wants to come on stage to meet everyone. Hands fly up immediately. She tries to get her own hand up but instead receives two elbow strikes in the face from both sides. Ouch. Did some teeth wobble? Both eyes bulge and her cheeks burn as she struggles to confirm whether the teeth are in jeopardy at this very second. Nobody cares about pain. All they care about is vying for attention. She learns this evening to never trust anyone who tries to sweet talk or apologise in advance on pushing into neighbours by accident. It is a lie. A sign of bullshit to come along.
Since when did she get so enthusiastic and determined to grab a famous star's eye anyway? It wasn't even on the personal bucket list from a young age. She's someone who normally lives in the shadow, never wants to be in the spotlight or the centre of attention. Never likes to talk in front of a group and dislikes fighting, preferring the company of her own self. Gold stars never happened, no matter how hard she studied. It was always the person who asked for help that got the house points or certificates instead of her.
The opportunity to reach out to the artist is so rare. Not just through simple high fives, a grab of the sweat-driven shirt sleeve or fighting for a towel and a placard. She wants to thank them and tell them how much they've made an impact in life. Paid signing events or meet and greet sessions don't always come as often as tours but neither do the opportunities to suddenly go on stage at a concert.
But within a huge crowd of overzealous fans life seems small. She doesn't know whether she has a chance. This is the only concert and the final ever performance from the band tonight and she saved a lot of money to buy a ticket. She wanted to see how they looked in real life and not through a computer screen. But this is also her final concert attendance ever. She promised the family she'd stop going to concerts because they know it's a waste of money. This concert-going hobby is coming up to 4 years. Imagining how much was spent on tickets is always painful though the memories of hearing favourite songs live never fade.
Will the band see her? Of course not. She is just one of many fans. A faceless entity who is being hurdled into a venue to witness some entertainment for nearly two hours. She is simply a fellow Asian face as well. Not close to unique. No make-up. No highlights or surreal hair dye. No flamboyant clothes. A hobo against the the stylish youngsters of the millennia.
It's not this plain Chinese woman the band want to bring up on stage. It's that stunning European girl next to her who has amazing blonde hair, blue eyes and looking confident in a mini skirt and long sleeved shirt. Such cliché goddess features on a white woman. The ideal type for many people. This is one of the bitches who threw a punch without realising it but also the one who apologised in advance before the concert officially started, giving a warning she may be hurled into many directions by accident because of the mosh pit craziness.
Suddenly another girl is picked. A young Black girl oozing edgy coolness, perhaps on the same level of supposed exotic beauty as the European girl who got picked first. But then another girl gets to join the other two. It is a petite East Asian woman who appears a sassy model in her classy attire of tartan.
No matter how many times the blandly-dressed Chinese female raises her hand nobody sees it. Not one person hears her scream 'pick me' more than twice. Everyone is screaming their lungs out, some in protest over not being chosen to go on stage.
After ten minutes of endless shouting, she shrinks away. All the previous determination and subtle overconfidence from the early hours of the day deteriorates. She fooled herself so damn much. What a joke.
“You idiot,” she scolds herself quietly. “As if you stood a chance.”
As the acoustic session begins, everyone is silent. Nobody notices her disappointment and she walks away into the dark, budging past the attentive fans who focus their heart on the stage. The actual night isn't over yet. Maybe another thirty minutes to go. Curfew is 10.30 but who cares? Fulfilling one final deed to please the heart proved unsuccessful.
This is the final curtain. A promise is a promise.