x: spotlight.
The spotlight is hardly ever on me. When you hear the melodies streaming from my fingertips, I'll be somewhere hidden in the shadows. The vibrating of strings are straining to be heard. My talent is buried underneath the faces of the beautiful.
Then the one under the spotlight disappeared. The light shone on my face, scaring away the shadows that used to cling desperately on me. But without him there, I still wasn't satisfied.
The melodies didn't sound different in the light. The pluck of the strings were the same.
My name is Pata, and I long for the spotlight.