The second I step on stage, my chest is on fire. My heart is racing, my hands are shaking, and the crowd feels endless—thousands of people focused on me. The fear is raw and overwhelming, like standing on the edge of something too big to survive. Then I start playing, and the fear turns into a rush. The sound hits me back through the speakers, louder than my thoughts, and I feel completely consumed by it. My pulse locks into the rhythm. Every note feels dangerous and alive, like I’m giving away pieces of myself with no way to take them back. When the crowd reacts when they scream, sing, or fall into stunned silence it crashes through me. I feel powerful, exposed, unstoppable all at once. That’s when I fall in love not just with music, but with the stage itself. The intensity, the risk, the way it makes me feel more alive than anything else. Up there, fear becomes addiction, and I know I’ll always chase that moment where the lights, the sound, and my heartbeat all become one. @LittleMonsters @LadyGaga