The first week of performing arts worked better than I expected it to be. I turned out mediocre in all honesty but it was not without a fight. I took lots of liberty in most of our exercises and it felt amazing doing it in front of a lot of people with similar goals and intentions. It was there that I met people of similar interests and of outstanding backgrounds and qualifications. At the same time, I've never felt so alienated but happy both. We are an amazing bunch of people, our batch. When I first heard from Amy that I am a pioneer Filipino, the stakes grew higher. I felt the need to become best of what I do and what I must do. Although half of that feeling goes out of the other ear. I'm a lousy doer. We got along pretty fast, more so than I expected. Each person has their own unique set of skills and ideas and somehow it got pretty difficult figuring out the middle ground in which to stand on because everything has to be complex and ideal according to one's set of mind. I'm very happy and honoured to be part of this group. I try hard and long to be different myself, acting as if I were nice and all, which is hardly ever the case in par reality. The next obstacle to grasp is facing up to the momentum and taking it head-on face-first, and to find ways of looking for the more suitable living grounds for slumber and rest together with a group of lovely and talented young women of almost the same age.
Dark, darker, darkest, there is no difference. All hurts the same. Pain, everlasting, lingering. Pain, day and night. The hours are uncertain. Anything can happen now. Thinking about it hurts. Truth is unreliable. The romance is dead. My heart, it is lost. Unrecoverable, hateful, distrusting. Wishful, perhaps, but I have lost everything before and survived still. This one was special. So special. Embittered, the tip of my tongue tastes. The flavour of my life. Cuisine of kitchens unwanted. It burns, to the heart. I do not understand. I do not understand.