Eight years of practice amounting to the skills of a fourth grader. I’m pathetic. Worse. I’m pitiful. This is not a cry for pity or attention. This is me saying I’ve given up hope in believing I will be anything more than mediocre at music.
It’s funny how you realise how tiny the world is when you think about the universe. My brother is that universe. I am the world. And I am so insignificant I may as well not be.
I’m ever so pathetic. I don’t think I’ll believe you if you tell me otherwise. I don’t think you’ll care if I agree.
I desperately need enough time to sort myself out. I’m going to Matsuto’s (Matthew’s) house on Tuesday, where we shall hack each other to bits with his swords. I finally have someone to duel with. I hope I am not disappointed.
I don’t want to go back to church. The idea weighs upon me like a terrible anvil someone decided to dump on my chest when I wasn’t looking. It’s everything I hate about my weekend. It gives me reason not to look forward to Sundays.