I am not an author. Truly gifted writers are able to create an alternate reality so vivid they inspire a basis of followers that believe in the writer's world so passionately, they cannot imagine their lives without that drop of magic an author gives to them.
I am not a painter. Real, natural artists are able to envelope scores of people at any time by capturing an instant and regurgitation it onto a canvas, flawlessly preserving the original sparkle of that moment in time.
I am not an actor. Honest, talented actors can become anyone they choose in order to sweep an entire theater into an imagined land, forgetting the harsh realities of their own sad existences.
I am not a singer. Breathtaking performers have an innate charisma that draws wandering, unhinged souls and completes what they are lacking through a melodic transplant of mind and heart.
What I am not, is clear and substantial. Obvious.
But what am I?