02.03.2014, Sunday, 06:03 am

Miami, Morning of THE Competition

Mum’s in the bath. Kathryn’s facing a [quote] “major drama crisis” [unquote]. And here I am, clutching this book like its the last sane part of me, sweating my palms off, breathing FIRE out my nose.

This can’t be IT. I CAN’T be heading off for my tournament ALREADY… Please, please, please Kathryn. Forget about your eye lashes for a second and SHOOT me, because even DEATH is preferable to the intense nerves and pressure I’m experiencing right this VERY MOMENT.

I have to stop writing unless my aim for today is to drench the pages of my diary in perspiration. [I KNEW the waterproof journal jackets weren’t silly ideas…]


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