There, There.

Throughout the day, I managed to keep myself bouyant. Totally floating up in the air. Come to my art assessment, it's like facing reality. I am not myself, she said. I am dreaming. Where have I gone? Looking down, it's as if I expected a grand piano to come down on me, and accepted it. The tears stream off, without my control. I just don't know why.

She'd said we would talk outside about what's wrong. I kept silent for a long while.. and assumed it was my sister, an issue that happened a few days ago. It was a pretty bad state, but having to talk about it, my chest didn't feel too heavy, nor did I felt like it was carried off. It seemed like I've suffered being in the middle, but the more I think about it - the more I am convinced it's to do with me myself and I.

There's nothing wrong with me. I'm a perfectly healthy happy girl, who's got nothign to worry about at the moment. But I just can't find the puzzle. The fact I am losing it on my best subject - a subject I can totally be honest with if any, only means there is something missing. That drive, I once have in art, is not there anymore. There's no push. No inspiration. Not me...