Anya

It’s dark.

My surroundings are so dim that I can’t even see my feet. Besides my heart racing, I can hear voices from every corner, chanting my name in syllables.

An-ni-ya

An-ni-ya

An-ni-ya

An-ni-ya

The darkness is replaced by a thousand spotlights and I can finally see my feet wearing those pink glittery heels my mom bought me before the show and the pleated skirt of my pink and black split-colored dress. A familiar tune started playing and the chants grew louder.

It’s time Anya, you can do this.

I managed to look up due to my heavy big blonde wig. I saw thousands of people filling the stadium, screaming my name and how much they love me. I want to shout it back at them but my line is about to start so instead I just put on a little smirk and started singing.

The crowd went wild when I sang the first part. I swayed my body with the music and moved to different corners of the stage for each of them to see me. As soon as the chorus hit, the crowds sang along with me.

This is who I am

This is who I am

You cannot change me

This is who I wanna be

What an irony, I thought. This is not what I want—this is not me. But I have to keep going.

This is who I am

This is who I am

I will always stay true to myself

And be me

After that, backup dancers entered from each side of the stage wearing high-waisted panties and half cup bras, both with different pink and black patterns so they would match my short-sleeved and collared latex dress. As the beat hit, we started dancing, my fans then started screaming, some my name and some just aah~ while waving their merch and flags and signs. 

Seeing my fans enjoying my performance made me feel happy but I can’t get over how I felt like I’m lying to them. I’m singing a song about being myself while pretending to be someone else. As much as I hate it, I have to keep going. Aniya,—I thought to myself, again—you will get through this.

Someday.

>< <> <> ><

The show has come to an end—at last. The back-up dancers, make-up artists, and the rest of the staff decided that we should celebrate the success of the world tour and congratulate ourselves for the hard work we put in to make this show awesome. This is something I did not expect—reaching new heights, performing on stage, and becoming a worldwide hit artist with a sold-out concert?! This is my huge dream!

Except this is not me, nor what I wanted.

I thanked the staff for being such sweethearts before I headed out of the back door. Just opening the door slightly, I can already hear roars and screams from outside. Though I couldn’t see what’s happening because of the backs of two big and buff bodyguards blocking the view. I did not mind it because I've been doing this for years. I stepped outside and closed the door. Although I’m still facing the door, I can see the lights flash so bright and quick that I’m afraid if I turn around, I may have a seizure. But still, I turn around. The two bodyguards that once blocked my way have stood beside me and now I saw crowds of paparazzi and fans waiting for me to show up, most have their phones ready to take pictures. Although exhausted, I flash my brightest smile because I want them to be happy as well.

I carefully took a step forward as my head moved from left to my right. The whole sidewalk is almost filled. It feels like I’m Moses in the sea of people, where the red carpet in between them is the only thing parting it. I can hear their screams growing louder and louder every step. I am looking straightforward, trying to ignore the non-VIPs who are struggling to reach their merch out to me due to the barricade and other bodyguards blocking their way. I can hear the clicks of the cameras and my fans saying things like  “Anya, I love you~!” or with curses “Gosh Anya I fucking love you!” everywhere. I thought of turning my head and saying them back but before the words left my mouth, the bodyguard to my right stopped me.

“It’s the queen’s orders, princess.” Uck! The way he called me a princess. My emotions must’ve been painted on my face because then the same bodyguard stated: “It’s for your safety, ma’am. She just doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

The end of the carpet led me to a pearly white limousine, which is not like the very fancy and expensive one like the Ferrari we had in America. It is more like the one they use at weddings, which I’m not complaining--a simple Toyota car could work really. The bodyguard to my left opened the door to the car. I turned around and stared at my loyal fans one more time, seeing their faces lit up and screaming endless I love yous made my smile shine brighter. I opened my mouth to say something but again, the bodyguard that was on my right pushed me inside the vehicle a little too hard that I stumbled a bit. I glared at him and he let out a soft sorry. That’s when I finally stepped in and sat down at the black long chair near the door. The two guards then rode after, their heavy weight caused the vehicle to sink and shake a bit. 

I was looking through the window the whole time since I’ve sat down, watching tons of my fans waving and screaming at the limo. Although they are struggling from the hands of enormous beasts, they still have the biggest grin on their faces. I smiled, sadly. I guess they are just like me too.

“You don’t have to look dramatic,” I look up at the familiar voice sitting on another long chair opposite me. “There are no cameras.” She said this like she’s a British woman with a sweet angelic voice.

“That’s not what I was doing-”

“Well, you’re pretending like you’re in a music video!” She said as she pulled out a pressed powder and dabs the powder puff on the foundation then to her face. I can feel the car drive off, the fans squeals slowly fading. 

I can kind of feel my face turn sour but try to hold myself back. “Not all I do is for my career mom-”

“Hush, my child. I’m trying to focus.” She’s now putting eyeshadow on her eyelid, still holding up the pressed powder to use its mirror then put it down on a long dark oak table. She then pick the lipstick up from the table and press it on her lips. She then noticed that I was staring at her. “Oh honey it’s alright--I know I’m beautiful”

I rolled my eyes in annoyance and turned my focus back to the sidewalks and buildings. I shouldn’t have given attention to an attention-seeker. Now I’m not sure if I should be proud of hiding my sneer expression.

Honestly, I never wanna be a pop sensation. Although I performed with so many other pop artists, I won’t say it’s the best experience for me. I want to be in a band--as in a rock band. I want to write songs about being gloomy, angry and how to fight against the evils in the world. Just be a badass but for a good cause, you know? Because rock is not always sad and ‘emo.’ Rock is empowerment. It’s all about standing up although you’re already beaten down, fight although they gave you a million scars. It’s about not giving up and not giving a shit while doing so. I’ve written songs about my deepest and sincere thoughts that I soon want to let out in this world but there is just one problem: my mom.

My fans always tell me I have a cool mom, and I convinced them and the media that she is. But this was all part of her plan.

After she found my songbook, she told me she’ll make my dreams ‘come true’. I was excited as a 12-year-old but as I grew up, I started to realize that these dreams are not meant for me.

My mom is rich and has a lot of friends from different fields so she called the ones connected to the music industry and signed me a contract. When I saw the studio, I was thinking this is it. My dreams are finally coming true. But then she told me to write something different. I should write a song about happiness and love because “No one will ever listen to a song so gloomy and dark--it will just make them hate the world we live in” and so I did. She keeps ordering me what to do and being so young at the time I obeyed, trying to be a good daughter. I’m living in a dream, but not mine.

“So,” I said, still staring at the window. “You still let them call you ‘Queen?’” I hear her laugh, sweet and soft in the ears, but when I turn to look, there is a slight smirk if you just look a bit closer. “And you also keep doing that posh voice?”

“Oh honey,” she laid her eyelash curler on the table softly with the other cosmetics she had. 

“Mom, there are no cameras anymore. You can stop now.” I said it sarcastically, half wishing she could get pissed off.

“Honey, it's not an act. It’s just what I have got used to.” Yeah, mom, posh English in America? “Anyways,” she changed the subject quickly. Instead of listening, I sighed and stared back at the window showing me a few street lights and trees that are almost camouflaged in the dark. “Ani~” she cooed but I ignored, too tired to care. I’m just waiting for what she’s gonna say next. “Aww~ Anya’s really tired at the moment Companyans~” I look back at mom and she’s holding her pink gold iPhone Xs up, its ‘eyes’ felt like glaring at me. “So you all can just talk to me while I let my daughter sleep in preparation for the concert on friday~” I assume the camera is back to her now because she was smiling as she was saying this. She pointed at the phone and winked. “See you soon~” and then she dropped her right hand, where the phone is, on her lap.

“Is that live?”

“No,” she said while looking at her screen and tapping around it. “It’s just for my Instagram story.”

“Then cut me out of it.”

“But baby~ You cannot delete a part of an Instagram story~” I rolled my eyes in annoyance. “And also-” she faced her phone to me and showed her stories of me just staring in the distance for a few minutes. Some are just pictures and some are videos with captions only she thinks it’s funny--damn I forgot I’m still wearing this stupid wig. I checked the views and it already reached millions. “Oh, sorry honey~ I should’ve asked for your permission. But it’s alright because I’m your mother, right?” I just rolled my eyes, many times already. “And there’s a bright side of this anyways! Your fans are commenting that you look stunning! And they also can’t wait to see you again on Friday!”

“What’s the occasion on Friday?” I have to ask. I don’t care if I finally laid my full attention to her because I have to know what’s coming for me.

“Silly!” She giggled as if I’m dumb. But then she stopped when she realized I really don’t know what’s happening. “ Seriously?The second day of the concert!”

“Second day?!” I cannot hold my anger anymore. “What do you mean-”

“Concert was sold out tonight.” She said as she finally stared straight at me as well. “There are more fans who wanted to go but didn’t because there are no more tickets! So then we are giving them a chance!” She is wearing a huge grin, bigger than she had a while ago while confusion is still glued to mine. “So your sched’ starts at 8 in the morning, you’ll be gym-ing. 12 Noon is the practice up to 3 then 2 hours of rest and more practice since there are a lot of new things added to your show. The same thing goes for Friday except I will give you one-hour rest before it’s showtime at 6 pm!” She raised her arms and wave her fingers while putting it down like those magicians on tv where there’s a sparkling effect on their hands and I, as a kid, believed that the sparkles are one of his tricks.

Though instead of being sparked with excitement, my anger started rising. I can feel my blood rushing through my veins. “Mom, I'm tired. My head hurts, everything hurts! Recording, fan-signing events, world tours, and another concert here?! I just finished! I thought we’d take vacation here?”

“Honey~” She scooted a little bit farther from the seat and leaned closer, her arms resting on her thighs. “That’s what happens when people reach success!” 

“No SHIT!” This caught her off guard, something she never expects to leave my mouth again, and it felt good. “I’m fucking tired, my head and my body hurt--just in case your ears did not hear me from your dangling earrings and the money shoved down that earhole! I need my fucking rest mom!”

“Don’t say those!” She whispered-scream at me. “The driver can hear us and our bodyguards are just right there!”--I look in the direction she nods to and there I see our big guys sitting in a two-seat facing our direction, they are on their phones watching some cute cat videos and not listening to us whatsoever--“They might tell the news that you are disrespecting me! Your mother!”

I calmed myself down a little, but my anger still lingers. “I’m not being rude to you mom. I’m just saying I am tire-”

“NO!” She lost the posh voice and returned to her Filipino accent, finally showing her true colors. In the corner of my eye, I caught the guards startled by my mom raising her voice but they refused to look up and the meow sounds kept playing on their phones. “You cussed at your mom and that is bad!” She leaned into the table and pointed at me with her finger and her ice-breaking glare. “If they found out about this, you’ll be gone and the people will hate you--forever!”

I stared at my mom with the same anger in my eyes, but then what she said came replaying in my head: You’ll be gone, people will hate you, you will never achieve this success if it wasn’t for me, you are nothing, but I turned you into something. You will never be loved that way.  

Shit even the past kept coming back. I saw her evil eyes watching as my guard started backing down. Both of her words and her gaze working together to take every inch of my truth and turning my life back into a lie again. “I-I’m sorry mom” I gave up, my head hung low. 

I watched as her hidden smirk turned into a soft, fake smile. “It’s alright honey.” There comes her fake posh again. The limo went to a stop in front of the traffic light. My mom stood, her body leaning down since her 5-inch heel made her a bit taller, she then went ‘round the table and sat beside me. The car then started moving again. She held my hand which’s resting on my lap. “You know I cared for you~” then she hugged me, one arm over me. I can feel the warmth of her body passing through me and my heart. This made me look up. Maybe she did care for me, maybe she did love me. But the words left in her mouth next lost the spark of hope to me. “So~? Will you do the concert?”

I looked at her, really defeated and about to cry but I managed to let out a smile “Yeah.” I said quietly. She squealed a yay and told me about the things she planned for my next concert here in the Philippines but everything’s a blur to me.

She turned my dreams to hers. She sugar-coated every part of my art the way she always did with her voice to make her sound younger. She took my colors in order to shine brighter than me. I always wonder whether she cares for me because of me or because of what I have accomplished?

I knew I should’ve listened to my sisters on that day.

At 20, there are things that I knew about life: It’s that nothing lasts forever. When there’s a sun, there’s a moon. In life, there’s death, and prosperity comes with misfortune. Like Hansel and Gretel finding a gingerbread house filled with sweets; they thought they had it all until a witch came up and cooked them. The story just taught us that luck does not last forever, it always comes with a consequence.

I learned that right after you found happiness, and it made you too happy, the universe takes it away from you. Like when you’re watching too much Netflix and you forgot that it was just a month-free trial and you have to pay for the next time.

Happiness has prices, and everything will suddenly turn into nothing. 

Because who says you can stay happy in life?

Maybe that’s why it felt so surreal when I found out I was going to be famous--because people will take a part of it from you after you enjoyed it. This is where I realized that this is just a fantasy, and fantasies are not real.

I felt the car turn slowly as I watched the beautiful city lights of Manila now glaring through the dancing trees. I wonder if those lights will fade once they find out who I really am and what I wanted all along.   

Will the city lights turn into a lone forest? Will I just watch the trees dance with the wind? Should I just let the wind take the voice away or is it better to let out my voice although the lights will fade.

Then, I lost sight of the city. We are going through a dark road with dim street lights being 5 meters apart from each other. I don’t see the city anymore and it’s just trees. Although there’s light, it still looks dark...Is this what loneliness feels like? If it is, then I don’t want to be alone. I must make sure to keep the stage lights open,

Although the show is just a play.