Why am I here?
What am I doing?
This isn't going to end well.

I wish I was outside, playing, tossing a football around with friends, laughing, joking, messing about.
Anywhere but here.

I could be having fun, splashing water in the lake and practising dive-bombs in the summer-sun, but no, I can't.
Maybe I'm just over-reacting, probably I am. I'm not special, I'm not alone. Sitting here I'm just one amongst hundreds. That doesn't seem to soften the blow though, right here and now, it's just me, just me and the rest of my life.

I suppose there's quite a lot riding on this. If i'd have thought about it earlier, when I had more time, perhaps I'd be feeling better, more confident.

But instead I played.

“Please turn over your scripts, you may begin.”

Here goes nothing then, three hours to make something of my life.


Wish me luck.