Downhill Coasting

Just. End. Me.

Bluntly speaking, I'm sick of being a screw-up. Not one piece went well today... what am I doing wrong? I think I'm counting--try to keep a good beat, try to keep the bow moving... and then after that sucktastic performance (it all fell to hell in the middle... I jumped a beat, fml) I trip and fall off the goddamn mini-platform and bust a piece of my cello off. It's a little chunk, but it saddens me all the same. The one thing in my life that I know doesn't mind my endless, selfish ranting when I get into the practice room, doesn't mind my swearing up and down a three octave scale, doesn't care if I grimace at a note... and I hurt it. I let him down somehow. It's like I punched myself in the stomach. Irrational and sentimental as hell, but it's how I feel. He's my partner, you know? The one thing that won't dump me, that's always going to be there, whether I suck or not.

I think it all started rolling downhill that week of the Opera Gala performance.

Ah, but I can still laugh. Laugh because the reason I fell was those stupid shoes that I wanted so bad in tenth grade. Ugh, but let's not about the dizziness from not eating much lately. Didn't even see the edge coming. Thank god for that Victor guy Brenner's going on about. I'm going to have to make a trip over to his establishment and get Nick put back together. I just want to sit down in a practice room and never leave.

Free-floating. That's what it feels like right now. Just skimming along the surface of my skin, not really there but not off on a beach in never-never-land, either.

Holy crap there's a lot of trash in this room...