(AN:A LIKE,REVIEW,COMMENT OR COLLECTION WOULD MEAN THE WORLD TO ME~DEATH_C)
John Lee tossed and turned in bed, staring at the ceiling as the clock on his nightstand blinked 2:37 AM in a bright, unrelenting red. He had tried everything—counting sheep, deep breathing exercises, even listening to one of those "relaxation" podcasts where a man with a soothing British accent guided him through a serene forest. But nothing worked. His mind was like a hamster on a wheel, spinning endlessly with thoughts that refused to let him sleep.
The audition earlier that day had gone better than expected—or at least that's what Mia had said. But as the hours crept by, doubt began to creep in like a shadow in the night. Had he really done well, or was he just fooling himself? Maybe he'd only imagined the slight nod of approval from Lisa, the casting director. Maybe David Anderson had meant "interesting" in the same way people described unidentifiable food at a potluck: with a polite, noncommittal smile that hid their true feelings.
John sighed and sat up, running a hand through his already tousled hair. His phone lay on the nightstand, and he reached for it instinctively. He considered texting Mia, but a glance at the time stopped him. She'd probably kill him for waking her up at this hour.
Instead, he opened the notes app and started typing out a pros-and-cons list, hoping that putting his thoughts into words would help him sort through the chaos in his head.
**Pros:**
1. You didn't trip over your words during the audition.
2. The director didn't kick you out, which is a good sign.
3. Mia believes in you, and she's usually right about these things.
4. You didn't spill coffee on yourself (this time).
**Cons:**
1. You didn't trip over your words, but you definitely stumbled on that one line about "the betrayal"... was it "You betrayed me!" or "You've betrayed me!"? Should I have used more emotion?
2. The director didn't kick you out, but he also didn't look particularly impressed. What if "interesting" was code for "I've seen worse, but not by much"?
3. Mia believes in you... but she's your friend. She'd tell you you're great even if you weren't. Friends lie. That's what they do.
4. You didn't spill coffee, but you did accidentally step on that poor PA's foot on the way out. Does that count as a bad omen?
He stared at the screen, then shook his head. The list was making him feel worse, not better. He deleted it in frustration and flopped back down on the bed, groaning loudly into his pillow.
"Why am I like this?" he muttered to the empty room.
As if in answer, his phone buzzed with an incoming text. John frowned and grabbed it, surprised to see Mia's name on the screen.
**Mia**: You awake?
John sat up again, blinking in disbelief. How did she always know?
**John**: Yeah. Can't sleep. What's up?
**Mia**: Same here. I was just thinking about you. Want to talk?
**John**: Are you sure? It's pretty late...
**Mia**: Stop being polite and call me.
John didn't need any more encouragement. He swiped to call her, and Mia picked up after the first ring.
"Couldn't sleep either?" John asked, trying to keep his voice light.
"Not a chance," Mia replied, her voice a little groggy but still upbeat. "I was up thinking about your audition."
"You were?" John's stomach flipped at the thought. "Why? It wasn't that bad, was it?"
"Relax, John. I'm not saying it was bad. I'm saying I was thinking about how nerve-wracking auditions can be, especially when you're just starting out. I wanted to make sure you're okay."
John sighed. "Honestly? I'm not sure. I keep going over it in my head, trying to figure out what I did right, what I did wrong. I made a pros-and-cons list, Mia. A pros-and-cons list! Who does that?"
Mia laughed, the sound warm and familiar. "You do, apparently. I've never heard of anyone making a list for an audition, but hey, you've always been thorough."
John smiled despite himself. "I just can't stop thinking about all the ways I could've screwed it up. What if I was too intense? Or not intense enough? And what if 'interesting' is just Anderson's way of saying 'We'll call you if literally no one else on Earth wants the part'?"
"John, stop," Mia interrupted gently. "You're overthinking this, like you always do. Remember when you freaked out about that presentation at work because you thought your boss was going to hate it, and then he ended up loving it?"
John frowned, trying to remember. "Was that the time I stayed up all night rewriting the whole thing because I thought it wasn't good enough?"
"Exactly," Mia said, her tone laced with affection. "You've got this habit of doubting yourself when you're actually doing just fine. You're your own worst critic."
"I know," John admitted, "but this feels different, Mia. I've never wanted anything this badly before, and it's like... I'm terrified of messing it up."
Mia was silent for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer, more serious. "John, it's okay to be scared. We're talking about something that means a lot to you, and it's natural to feel that way. But you can't let the fear paralyze you. You have to trust that you're capable, that you deserve this opportunity."
John swallowed, the knot in his stomach loosening just a little. "I want to believe that, I really do. But what if... what if I'm not good enough?"
Mia didn't hesitate. "Then you keep working at it until you are. Look, John, nobody's perfect right out of the gate. Even the best actors started somewhere, and they all had moments of doubt. But the difference is, they didn't let that stop them. And you can't either."
Her words settled over him like a warm blanket, soothing some of the anxiety that had kept him up all night. "You always know what to say," John said softly.
"That's because I know you," Mia replied with a smile in her voice. "And I believe in you, John. I know you've got what it takes. Just give yourself a chance."
John nodded, even though she couldn't see him. "Thanks, Mia. I needed to hear that."
"Anytime," she said. "Now, do me a favor and try to get some sleep, okay? Tomorrow's a new day, and you'll need your energy if you're going to take the world by storm."
John chuckled. "I'll try. You get some sleep too, alright?"
"Deal," Mia agreed. "Goodnight, John."
"Goodnight, Mia."
He hung up the phone, feeling a little lighter than before. Mia was right—he was overthinking this. It wasn't like he was auditioning for an Oscar-winning role; it was a supporting part, and he'd done the best he could. That had to be enough.
Still, the lingering doubts refused to let go completely. What if he hadn't been intense enough? Or what if he'd been too intense? What if Lisa had rolled her eyes at his performance the moment he left the room? What if—
"No," John muttered to himself, shaking his head. "Stop it. Mia's right. Just let it go."
But letting it go was easier said than done. His mind kept drifting back to the audition, replaying it over and over until it became a distorted mess of imagined failures and exaggerated mistakes.
Eventually, John gave up on sleep entirely. He got out of bed, grabbed his laptop, and headed to the kitchen. Maybe if he distracted himself with some work—or better yet, some mindless internet browsing—he could escape the relentless loop of self-doubt that had taken over his brain.
He sat down at the kitchen table, opened his laptop, and pulled up a blank document. He stared at the screen for a moment, then began typing:
Things I Shouldn't Be Worried About But Totally Am:
1. Did I accidentally come across as arrogant when I said I was ready to work hard? What if they think I'm full of myself?
2. Why didn't I ask more questions about the role? What if they wanted to see more initiative? What if they think I'm just not that interested?
3. Should I have worn a different shirt? Was the blue one too casual? Should I have gone with the gray? But the gray makes me look washed out...
4. What if they hire someone else who has more experience? Someone who's been in bigger productions? What if they think I'm too green?
5. Did I step on that PA's foot too hard? What if they're now telling everyone I'm a klutz who can't even walk properly?
He stopped typing and stared at the list. It was ridiculous, he knew that. But seeing it all written out somehow made it easier to handle. They were just thoughts, after all—worries without real evidence behind them.
John sighed and closed the laptop.
Maybe he was just too wired to sleep. He needed to unwind, clear his head. He glanced at the cabinet where he kept his snacks, then at the clock. It was nearing 4 AM, but who cared? A little midnight (or early morning)
snack might do the trick.
He grabbed a bag of chips and settled back at the table, crunching away as he mindlessly scrolled through social media. The mindless feed of cat videos, memes, and inspirational quotes began to lull him into a sense of calm, his racing thoughts slowing down as the minutes ticked by.
That was until he came across a post from an actor he followed—a guy about his age who had just landed a major role in a new TV series. The post was filled with congratulatory comments, the actor's beaming face staring back at John from the screen. His heart sank.
"Of course," John muttered, tossing a chip into his mouth with more force than necessary. "Of course, someone else's career is taking off while I'm here freaking out about a single audition."
But then, just as he was about to close the app in frustration, he noticed something in the caption:
"It's been a long road with lots of ups and downs, but I finally made it! Couldn't have done it without all the support from friends and family who kept me going even when I doubted myself. #KeepGoing #DreamBig #HardWorkPaysOff"
John paused, his thumb hovering over the screen. He read the caption again, this time paying closer attention. Doubts? Hard work? This guy, who seemed to have it all together, had struggled too? It was oddly comforting to realize that even people who were "making it" had faced their own battles with self-doubt.
He put down his phone and leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath. Maybe he wasn't so different from everyone else trying to make it in the industry. Maybe everyone had nights like this—nights where sleep was a distant dream and the weight of uncertainty pressed down like a heavy blanket.
John let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. I get it," he muttered to the universe, or whoever might be listening. "I'll stop freaking out. Or at least... I'll try."
Feeling a little more at ease, John cleaned up his late-night snack mess and headed back to bed. This time, when he laid down, the tension in his chest had eased. The doubts were still there, but they weren't as loud, and they weren't as overwhelming. Maybe he could face them, after all.
And as he drifted off to sleep, John couldn't help but think about the next steps—about what would come if he did get the part. The thought was exciting, but it was also terrifying. He was stepping into a world he'd only ever dreamed about, and he had no idea what lay ahead.
But that was okay. Because for the first time in a long time, John felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be—on the brink of something new, something challenging, something that could change his life.
And as he closed his eyes and finally succumbed to sleep, John knew one thing for certain: no matter what happened next, he was ready to face it head-on.
---
The sun was already creeping through the blinds when John's phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand. He groaned, burying his face in the pillow, but it kept buzzing insistently. He reached out blindly, grabbing it and squinting at the screen.
It was a text from Mia.
**Mia**: Rise and shine, superstar! Got some news for you.
John's heart skipped a beat, the grogginess melting away in an instant. He quickly sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he typed back.
**John**: What is it? Tell me!
Mia's response came almost immediately.
**Mia**: Anderson called me this morning. He wants to meet with you today. Says it's important.
John stared at the screen, his heart pounding in his chest. Important? What did that mean? Was it good news or bad news? His mind raced with possibilities, each one more nerve-wracking than the last.
Before he could spiral into another round of anxiety, Mia's next text popped up.
**Mia**: Don't worry, I've got a good feeling about this. Just meet him at the studio at 10 AM. And breathe, okay?
John took a deep breath, nodding to himself as if Mia could see him. This was it—the moment of truth.
**John**: Thanks, Mia. I'll see you there.
As he got out of bed and started getting ready, John's thoughts were a whirlwind of excitement and fear. This could be the turning point, the moment where everything changed. But whether it was for better or worse, he had no idea.
He dressed quickly, pulling on the first decent outfit he could find, and headed out the door. The morning air was crisp, the city already buzzing with life as he made his way to the studio. Every step felt like a countdown to something big, something that could make or break his budding career.
When he arrived at the studio, Mia was already waiting for him outside, her expression a mixture of excitement and concern.
"You ready for this?" she asked, giving him a reassuring smile.
John nodded, though his stomach was doing somersaults. "As ready as I'll ever be."
Mia squeezed his arm gently. "Whatever happens in there, just know that you've already done something amazing by taking this leap. The rest is just a bonus."
John took a deep breath, the words sinking in. "Thanks, Mia. I needed that."
She nodded toward the entrance. "Come on. Let's see what Anderson has to say."
They walked into the studio together, the familiar lobby greeting them with its sleek, modern design. But this time, the atmosphere felt different—charged with anticipation, as if the very air was holding its breath.
As they approached the reception desk, the same young woman from before looked up, her expression lighting up with recognition.
"Mr. Lee, Ms. Carter," she greeted them with a polite smile. "Mr. Anderson is expecting you. You can go right in."
John's pulse quickened as they made their way down the hallway, the same one he'd walked just a day ago. It felt like a lifetime had passed since then, like everything had changed.
When they reached the casting office door, John hesitated for just a moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob.
"You got this," Mia whispered, giving him an encouraging nod.
With a final deep breath, John opened the door and stepped inside, his heart pounding in his chest.
And that's when he saw it—Anderson standing by the window, a small, knowing smile on his face as he turned to greet them.
"John, Mia," he said, his voice calm but filled with something John couldn't quite place. "Thanks for coming in on such short notice."
John exchanged a quick glance with Mia, who gave him a subtle nod of encouragement. Whatever Anderson was about to say, John knew he had to be ready for anything.
And as Anderson took a step forward, his expression serious but not unkind, John felt his breath catch in his throat.
This was it—the moment that could change everything.