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I don't really feel good now.

Now I really realize what I can do soulfully is playing the piano ONLY.

What? Tendonitis? I still remember Ms Chew's words. I don't know. What can I do?

I don't want tendonitis.

My mom had a friend who hurt herself of playing too much octaves with her small hands.

She had to STOP playing for one whole year.

What?!

Will I be like that too? I don't want that. Now I can imagine artists who lost their hands unintentionally, and I feel tears trying to escape.

I FEEL the pain as I type. The ignorable pain. I always ignore it. Now the threat has occured to me - the fact that I may not be able to continue raging upon black and white keys like I did just now.

I played. None other than Uematsu-sama's FF7 'Tatakau Monotachi'.

Full of alternating scales and arppegios and so greatly, moving octaves.

I couldn't resist. It was the only song that I was able to play to display my inner turbulence.

Trying very hard to do Beethoven's Pathetique Sonata. It hurts SUPER. But I felt Beethoven. (Despite the consistent errors that made me go cuckoo.)

What can I do next? What if I lose the only valid love of life? Is it the end? Will I just be a conscious piece of organism made up of non-living biochemicals, providing pollution and problems?

It's intriguing to see how a day can change 180 degrees. My day started out tired. But I was hyper since I did quite well for driving. And I went super blank for the afternoon. Then went tired again. At last, I feel stupidly helpless. Like now.

Or can I do violin? Cello? Guitar? Anything but nothing!

I plead to you God, if you are there. I need my hands, and I need to play. Two things which contradicts in my life, no attainable solutions apparently. I am to stupid to realize how to avoid fatigues. And so conviniently I am to weak to supress my feelings to systematically control physical casualties on the keys.

My drawing is just ORDINARY btw, if anyone ever wonders, or reads this. I have no idea how to hone my drawing skills. And my imagination, creativity, and innovation, put into words - Limited.

Writing? Forget it. I may continue to improve my vocab but never succeed to reach out to people with words. I have no good networks with literacy. Which reminds me, I need to get an SAT review book.

I can't wait for the next semester to begin. Then I will forget everything. I will just perform my duty, get my degree, get great grades, get great scholarships, get real, and get away from anything that reminds me of the IDEALS.

What does getting real feels like? I bet it's awesome. Working hard for 4.0s, making great friends and discussing about further education, getting a 6-figure-pay job, counselling young lads to work hard and get good grades so they can be like you. Et cetera.

I need to get a life. One with PROPER socializing, one with PROPER exercises, one with PROPER concentration, one with PROPER hobbies, one with PROPER impressions, one with PROPER way of conveying messages. I need to sleep, lose consciousness, and forget.

Stranggle myself someday. And my death will be pathetic. Nothing will ever immortalize. Nothing.

jděte pryč.