Post Four (Part Two)

I walked down the aisle of the empty chapel on that icy January morning. I had Chinese right before, and instead of writing out all the characters I learned that week, Professor Zeng had me practice reading my speech in front of him and the only other person in the class. He told me it was essential to read it a few times over before I gave it. I was wearing a pale pink baggy sweater that was loosely tucked into my high waisted mom jeans, and my light blue, slightly pretentious, Golden Goose platform sneakers that have silver splatters all over them.

The day before I was trying on all these cute dresses that I overnight ordered for this occasion, my mindset was that if I was going to spill my life out, I might as well look hot doing it. Each dress was super short, or super booby, and as I modeled them for one of my best friends, Leslie, she told me, “I love them Gwen, but you want to look like you, and you don’t want to flash the entire school.” We then decided on the teal wrap dress with a jean jacket on top.

That Thursday morning, I put on my wrap dress and looked in the mirror. I saw a girl trying too hard; I didn’t see me. Also, it seems kind of sus wearing a mini dress in the dead of winter, so I took off the dress and slipped into the Gwen uniform. I twisted my hair into my signature half-up, half-down look, and I headed out the door. I had my speech clutched in my hands on the way to the dining hall. I walked in and saw Les walking towards me with a bowl of blueberries, and she smiled at my outfit and said, “you look perfect, you look like Gwen.” I smiled at this as I walked to class. I then checked my phone and my incredible dorm head texted me saying how proud she was of me and that I would be great.

What the fuck was I doing? I kept asking myself that, especially when I was sitting behind the podium watching hundreds of people I knew filter in the chapel. Who do I look at? This is going to flop. I was sitting there bouncing my knee up and down, not being able to sit still until I saw one of my best friends, Savi lock eyes with me; she gave me a thumbs up and flashed her million-dollar smile at me and whispered, “You will be amazing.” I nervously smiled back at her and then put my head down and took deep breathes because I sort of was hyperventilating at this point. I have never had stage fright in my life. I grew up dancing, but the thing is there, you don’t ever speak, and the audience is all blacked out. Here I could see everyone’s faces.

The school Chaplain introduced me, and I stood up at the podium on the left side. Nobody ever wants to go to chapel, so I was staring at all of these glum tired faces that looked confused about why I was up there. Do I introduce myself? Oh god, here I go. I clutched my speech, and I was shaking. I knew people were watching my forearms quiver as I held these six pieces of paper. “Well, here I go,” I said that. Why did I say that? Just fucking do it.

“We are all books.” I gave a long pause and decided to look up. Everyone looked a little confused. I just needed to keep going. I got through the first two pages until I got to the part where I asked everyone to close their eyes and raise their hands if they ever have experienced anxiety. Everyone raised their hand. It was weird because I thought to myself that I was the only one that could see them from this perspective. I was watching them as much as they were watching me. One by one, people started to cry. I saw this group of hockey boys tear up, and the football players in the front row start to sob. I was already avoiding people to look at because I knew if I locked eyes with them, I would deteriorate into a puddle of tears. I kept on switching up who I was looking at and changing the people if they started to cry. I got to chapter two of my speech, and I read one line, and I felt my voice crack. I began to cry. I started to cry in front of hundreds of people. I took about 30 seconds to collect myself before I continued, but at this point, I would say 70% of the audience were all in tears.

I was able to pull myself together and continue; I then felt this surge of pride and this surge of panic because I was making everyone cry on this miserable morning... Not exactly what people want. I decided to look at the one person I swore to myself I would not look at, and she had her head in her knees and was shaking. I said each word carefully as I finished my speech because I couldn’t lose it again. I spoke so slowly in the last part, and I then said, “Thank you.” I looked up, and all at once, everyone unanimously stood up all at the same time. It was like this choreographed moment. Words can’t describe what that felt like (one of the most memorable moments of my life). It is a tradition that everyone who speaks in chapel needs to walk down the aisle before anyone else can leave their seats. I walked down the aisle as people were standing and clapping. That was the closest my life has ever resembled a movie moment. I made myself the main character, and I walked with pride, and nobody can take that away from me.

Although this was almost two years ago, this moment shaped me. It made me realize how opening up can benefit the great majority. There is an ability to shed light during the darkest times, which is what this blog is to me. I am attaching a video of myself reading my chapel talk. Although it happened almost two years ago, I wrote it to be heard rather than read on a document. Things have obviously evolved and changed over the years, but the way I wrote the speech was to be timeless. The video is kind of awkward! It was not meant to be read in my bedroom in my pajamas, but oh well! What are you going to do? I hope you enjoyed this little storytime. More regular posts will come soon!.

Wish on a dandelion for me,

G