How does this sound for a beginning of a book?

[remembermyname]

Walking across the empty stage were I had my first and last show was odd with out all the screaming fans. There weren't people's hands reaching out to touch me when they thought I was close enough, or the deafening screams so loud I couldn't hear myself think as I walked onto the stage. No. This time I could hear my every breath, every quiet footstep was like the beat of a drum in this quiet, dark stage. There was only one light on in the whole place, and that was pointing to the backdrop for a play to soon be done behind me, if anyone were in the audience I would be nothing but a silhouette, a black shape against vast majority of beautiful colors, the dark spot in an beautiful picture.
I didn't really know what I was doing here, the stage was no longer for me. Everyone was tired of the music I made, like having the same food for breakfast everyday, it gets tiresome. For some reason though, I felt oddly at peace being on an empty stage the seats in front of me, empty. The backstage chaos gone. The theater was quiet, but I was used to the loud, the loud didn't seem loud to me anymore. The quiet felt loud, it pressed on me, made me aware of it's presence. I guessed I had to get used to it though. There would BE no more loud, no more screaming, no more loud beat of the drum, no more me. The world was tired of me. It was no point trying to fight what already was.
Marley who?