open mic night

the number one fear in america isn't death. it's public speaking. which means most people would rather be in the coffin than giving the eulogy. and that fear is running your life in ways you don't even realize.

why the stage terrifies you

fear of public performance isn't really about the audience. it's about exposure. on stage, there's nowhere to hide. no screen to curate your image, no time to craft the perfect response, no anonymity to protect you. you're just... you. vulnerable, imperfect, visible.

that vulnerability is exactly why you need to do it.

the open mic experiment

find an open mic night in your city. comedy clubs, coffee shops, bars, poetry venues — they exist everywhere. sign up. get on stage. and share something.

it doesn't matter what:

• comedy: tell a joke you think is funny. if it bombs, you just learned something about timing and audience. if it lands, you'll feel invincible
• poetry: read something you wrote or something someone else wrote that moves you
• storytelling: share a real experience from your life that has a point
• music: play a song, even if you're mediocre. the courage to play publicly matters more than the skill level

what happens after the terror

the first 30 seconds on stage are pure adrenaline. your hands shake, your voice cracks, your brain screams at you to flee. and then something shifts. you realize the audience isn't your enemy. they want you to succeed. they're rooting for you because they know they'd never have the guts to be up there themselves.

after you finish — whether it went great or terrible — you'll feel a high that lasts for days. because you proved to yourself that the thing you feared most couldn't actually hurt you.

book it this week

find an open mic. sign up before you can talk yourself out of it. prepare something simple — even 60 seconds is enough. the goal isn't perfection. the goal is proving that fear doesn't get the final vote.

if this resonated, share it with someone who needs to hear it.