At the bottom of the pit, there is solid ground. Poems and movies would have us believe you sink into molten lava but experience has taught me that once you get there, you’re able to stand. I am standing now, a little shaky but the sunlight has begun to warm me. I ignore the butterflies in my stomach, the angry tension in my arms. I take deep Pilates breaths. I talk my way into a familiar mood of breezy self-assurance, of diva theatricality. I remember who I am.

The audience cheers.