The first time I asked you to dance was awkward, I admit. You were with your friends. I was shy and had a long-time crush, which made it harder, I think. "Hi, I'm Billy... you wanna dance?"

You said no. Your friends laughed while I was walking away.

I thought about that "no" for a while. I was not proud of my effort. I wondered if I had blown it for good. I went back to my friends, who gave me shit, of course, "Shot down," they laughed, "shot down in flames!"

"Just wait, fellas. The night ain't over yet."

I caught you on the way to the jukebox. "Hey, I'm Billy Daniels... I remember you from American Lit. I'm the one who got kicked out on day two for smoking. I don't remember much about that class, but I remember you."

You brushed on by, but you smiled. You were a nice girl, not the kind who paid much attention to a guy like me, a guy with long hair and rowdy friends.

The next time it was late, and you were alone, swaying to a smokey beat. I don't remember the song, but I remember the beat. You wore that beat like a little black dress, moving inside it, making it look good, and feel good. "Hey, I came tonight 'cause I heard you hang out here. I'd really like to meet you. Please don't blow me off."

You shrugged and headed for the dance floor.

I remember how naturally our bodies slid together. I remember how your hair smelled like strawberries. I remember how your waist fit in my hands. I remember your eyes when I lifted your chin with gentle fingers and said, "thank you," I remember how those eyes pleaded for me to stop. But mostly I remember how your lip quivered after. That was when I knew.

One of those lies which

becomes truer the more it's told;

The thing which is so

promoted by those to whom we

give our attention.

Why doesn’t it come to me so

naturally as it

seems to be in so many hearts?

I can only guess

the real story behind those eyes

so brave before me.

The energy to set one foot

down past the other

on the incline which is promised

will lead us homeward;

a fable forming facts in us.

To some a trait

To some a gift

To some a single sailing ship

To travel away

To seize the day

To always have the right words to say

To speak unbarred

To walk aware

To never be afraid to stare

To howl aloud

To sing with pride

To run toward and not to hide

To stand alone

To stand among

To hug a friend and help someone

To spread your arms

To stand up tall

To never fear the dark at all

To hold a hand

To kiss a cheek

To feel that it's alright to speak

To know a wish

To wish to know

To never worry you'll be alone

To feel that pride

To love with heart

To know you'll never fall apart

or start

To lose your confidence.

I tell this to you in confidence,

and I know you'll misunderstand.

You'll hear what happened on the fence,

and tell everyone in the land.

I tell this to you in confidence,

that I don't want to be here

but you're the only one, since

I faced my deepest fear.

There on the fence,

there was a boy

in my defense

a cute one, dressed in the color of soy.

He looked at me like I was meat

he told me he was lost

He told me he woud like to greet

me properly, so I stepped into the frost.

I tell you this in confidence,

don't you dare tell a soul

this is me letting down my defense

don't burrow in like a mole.

I have no actual confidence,

only what I know.

But I tell you this in confidence,

it was I who stepped in the snow.

I smile

My confident smile

With my mouth

And my teeth

And almost my eyes.

They don't notice. They never do. I switch it on when needed. My mask serves me well.

Too well.

They ask me again. To do more. To take charge. To take the microphone.

And I do.

Before and after, I am dizzy. So tired. The world slips in and out of focus.

But then the trigger flips my switch. And the act begins.

There are times I slip. My thoughts not sharp enough. And some notice. But never say. Or even ask if I'm okay.

And I get through. I never fail because I know the role. I act it well. And I fear their stares, confused if I just stopped or even faltered.

But it's not the fear of failure that haunts me most.

Oh, no.

It's the fear of success. Of moving on to the next level. The next stage. Where I will surely be discovered.

But still

I smile my confident smile.

And they smile back.

So oft that on occasion,

I posit there is no opinion of me that matters;

Save that of Mummy.

It is an enormous responsibility,

I realised, to endeavour self trust.

Making you smile as you,

walk through life graciously tackling

the opportunities which present themselves daily

Knowing that the stream of occurrences

In your life are unique in their order

To you.

Many people have similar

And in some situations the same circumstances

But the ordering is supremely yours

As is the response

And it is this that gives me the confidence

To know that I am enough and I am right

With and for me

I didnt have the richest of upbringings, although I was cared for for sure. My mother gave birth to me when she was 15 and she'd been kicked out of the family home and ended up in a really rough area. I grew up moving from one council estate to another and those kind of areas are where I'm happiest.

I love that you can hear the world from your living room. It wouldn't be normal for me to not be able to open my bedroom window and not be able to see people openly arguing on their fronts. I'm pretty common. I would never blend with a posh society, but I'm happy with that.

I'm a very confident person. I dont mean with the way I look, because we all have things we'd rather be different. I have stretch marks on the lower part of my stomach and my tits aren't as huge as I'd have liked them. But I'm still content with the way I look.

When I say I'm confident, I mean with who I am. I dont scuttle away from things, and I dont cower from people. I think that's a good thing. Although I understand many think it puts me in danger.  I speak kinda crudely and I'm very open. I come across as a bit of a cunt at times, but I always try to give good advice and I'll be bluntly honest if you come to me asking questions.

I wish other people were more honest about themselves.

So many people try to be like everybody else that they blend too easily. The amount of people I've tried to get to know by asking them to tell me about themselves and it's same old, same old. I'd love it if somebody popped up in my inbox and was like, "I'm a coward. I'm frightened of a lot of things, and I allow other people to take control of the situation so that I dont need to think for myself."

That would be brilliant! I dont see this as a bad thing. I see it as a fact that splits you up from every other fucker. And we should all have these little things about ourselves. I dont take them as good things or bad things. Its our real personalities.

I'm common, crude, messy, and I'm not that intelligent. I'm clever where I feel I need to be and I'm good with people. I like to study peoples minds. Hence my strong interest in psychology.

I will lie, fight and completely destroy for the people I respect and care about. But on the other hand, I'm pretty damned honest where it counts, and I'm loyal.

So... tell me something that frightens you.

I have an unusual fear of Ronald McDonald. Yes, it may be laughable. But its real.

I love tarantulas. I desperately want one, but my daughter is terrified of them. And i like music that my grandmother likes to call Musical pornography.

I hope to see more of these truth posts. It's something we can build on and make beautiful. Be you. Be the best you.

Confidence is a thing that ebbs and flows. It plagues mirrors for some of us, and resides in critics for others. Truly, the battering of confidence is the sword that our own inner critic wields against our creativity. In the beginning we have confidence of curiosity and unknowingness. We do not comprehend injury or death.We do not see the intense pain of failure until we are brought into the world too quickly, pulled out to sea by riptides of schoolbooks and chatter and self inflicted standards that pull us down more than they improve us. Confidence, like any muscle, needs time to grow. There are moments when we are high on life—when this brief and tangible confidence explodes in our bloodstream and we are unstoppable. But that kind of confidence is burning—it lights us up and leaves our charred minds behind in the dead forest. Confidence is something you build up after you lose it. In the beginning, it feels theatrical, false, a remedy without a conclusion. But as time wears you down and you fight the clocks and the critics and the heartache, it can return if you let it—which is terrifying. When you have been under the ripples of confidence, it becomes a part of you and by destroying it, you lose your identity. Perhaps that is why we are so stubborn, when trying to help ourselves find happiness? Because our pain has become us and we become our low self esteem. It is innate and destroying it takes courage But when that moment comes, when that epic ending to constricted breath is free to do it‘s job and the theatrical dance of talking to yourself and your reflection feels like a truth instead of a lie...well then, confidence has been given a chance to bloom.

Carl’s a popular Zumba instructor. His moves and music are inspiring enough to gain fun and lose pounds. His energy is infectious, and the room reverberates with the intense routine filled with foot-shaking music. Lines snake from entrance to exit, and the class is filled to capacity. Despite our gym membership, people reserve a spot a few days before class by paying an extra dollar to ensure they get a place.

Another way is to get to class an hour early and get a ticket for class behind the ones that paid.

Carl knows how to wield power over the class. They’re reverential to his leadership qualities, his uplifting music, and confident dance moves. His exercises target several muscle groups including core, arm, leg muscles, and glutes. The sound of hands and feet hitting the floor, the peppy music, the claps, the whoops, make the walls resound. Despite the large capacity of the room and an air conditioning system working overtime, the room mirrors fog up like a steamy love scene in a car from some old ship wreck movie.

Last week, there was no long waiting line, and that’s when we realized we had forgotten he was on vacation. For those who came prepared for a High Intensive Training, it was extremely disappointing.

The substitute was quite a contrast to him. She was a young lady, a bit insecure, and was not exactly an enthusiasm whipper-upper. Most everyone’s disappointment turned to veiled hostility.

Her unfamiliarity with the sound system got the class on a rocky start. Some rolled their eyes behind her back without caring the room had mirrors. Her diffidence began to swell, and it affected the over-all climate. The dance moves were not on par with Confident Carl. She tried to get people to make some noise, but the class did not oblige. A few snooty people left, and the instructor smiled helplessly at their exit.

It was hard, and my friend’s enthusiasm began to flag. She whispered, “This instructor just cannot get me motivated.” I told her to go along, and recommended, “Let’s make whooping noises to get energy up.”

Our noises perked up the pace a bit, and the instructor smiled weakly in gratitude. We also experimented some new subtle moves, and she began to imitate them.

After a while, my friend whispered a goodbye to hit the elliptical machine instead.

The teacher tried rearranging the formation, dividing up the rapidly shrinking group, and even asked for song choices. Her diffidence grew, as people filed out in the middle of a routine.

Somehow I completed the class. At the end, I went to thank her, but she beat me to it instead. Overall, I managed to whip myself a good workout despite the average lesson.

Carl came back for today’s class after a relaxed break.

We waited in line to get the numbers called. Since I got there ten minutes before class, the last of the tickets were gone. I put my name on the waiting list, and I noticed my friend. She congratulated on my patience, and all the others complained how awful it was with him gone the prior week.

It was nearly full attendance, and I was lucky to find the sole absentee spot. But I was way back in line, and could hardly see Carl.

He talked about his vacation, and everyone crowed how glad he was back. They began to stoke his ego, and I could see his grin grow wider. He satisfactorily brought to our attention the attendance strength, mentioned he had text messages from class members extolling his confident skills, and he thanked them for missing him this much. People had also complained about the substitute. He brought up the prior week’s class, and said that he learned only seven people stayed back until the end. Everyone laughed remembering.

Then he with a hint of sarcasm, asked, “So,who were those people that stayed?′

People scanned their heads, probably to sneak a laugh at those foolish ones. Some out of the few who stayed were too embarrassed to raise the hand.

Despite the discomfort I raised my hand, for I felt bad for the substitute. It was no fault of hers they did not like her in comparison to confident Carl. Besides, it seemed somewhat unpalatable in staying silent for a herd this shallow. Seeing me, a couple others slowly raised their hand, almost embarrassed for having stayed in a “bad” class. The class continued to titter.

Carl looked at me in the back and at the couple of hands raised peppered in the crowded class. He signaled for us come to the front line. The others made room with utmost deference, and he asked me specifically to take the most coveted spot right behind him.

After class, I went up to thank him. The topic came up again, and I asked him why he used this unique approach to address it. He was with another instructor friend. Quite simply he looked at her and said, “Haven’t we all been there?”