Yes, I have chops.

I've spent my life doubting myself. It started as a hobby, and blossomed into a full blown identity. Just how and why it played out that way is a subject for another time. Suffice it to say, I'm good at it. It even got to the point where if something connected to me went well, I could legitimately doubt if it happened at all.
This is not a sympathy plea. Life is fine. But I always wondered: What would the world look like through the eyes of confidence? What if I could own something beautiful? I mean, own up to it, make it happen and make it mine. I might be a fully functioning, contributing member of society, but what about shooting through a room like a comet and lighting the world? Why shouldn't that be me?

Love? Education? Friendship? . . . Bandaids. Not wastes of time. Just . . .

Along came theater. I went out on a limb on the recommendation of some friends. And let me cut to the chase:
I slayed those people. I kicked ass. I held a room in the palm of my hand. I harnessed the sun. I gathered the masses and held them by the throat. I had the devil in me, and he made me total my car. It was the sum of all previous attempts at self esteem.

In short: I have chops.

Deal with it.