Well, naturally I aced all exams... No, but my strengths shone out in the Performing Arts section, which I suppose is acceptable had I been taught drama and theatre studies in a drama studio. However I was not, and I was rather shy, not the best combination for someone who is to be the next Keira Knightly. Well alright, not quite, but you get the picture; I had thought that it wouldn't be my forte, but as ever, the principle persuaded me with his English and Psychology degrees, leaving me struggling for a way out.
It turns out that I would only have to be on a stage for an hour a week and the rest of the time I'd just be writing essays and attending lectures.
It wouldn't be too bad, I'd been acting for years pretending I was okay, faking my feelings for my personal safety. This would be nothing in comparison. Nothing. It might even be fun. Of course I was looking forward to the social aspects, but then again after almost your whole life of being your own bestfriend, who wouldn't?
The principle interrupted my thoughts by clearing his throat. I snapped out of my daydream with a start; it appeared I had missed a question. Oops.
"So did you manage to decide on a course to study?" He laughed, repeating his question.
"Yes, theatre studies," I grinned somewhat sheepishly. In reality I really couldn't wait, even if I was rather nervous. But what was acting compared to being embarassed to be myself? It was nothing. I could at least make a fool of myself in somebody else's words, the extent of which would be far less than if I were to use my own.
On all accounts, the principle was a very nice and riendly character, with a large cloak and a greying goatee, and eyes that shone like a thousand jewels in the midnight sky. I wasn't attracted to him, don't get me wrong, it was just that he was pretty much as close to a father figure as I was going to get. He looked wise and trustworthy, that when he spoke to you he was so sincere you could see right through to his very soul.
I left the principle's office feeling somewhat enlightened, that I was able to do this despite my age and in spite of my background, in an area of study I had never before reached up until now. I pitied the fool that believed I could achieve nought, that believed my life's work amounted to nothing. The fool was in my conscience, always floating there, deep down enough that I am unable to reach him, but close enough to the surface that I am aware of his presence.
It amuses me, the monologues I am able to produce whilst in a mere daydream, whilst drifting in consciousness. Nothing would be able to stir me, nothing except a sudden change in my surroundings. Something like an unexpected flight of stairs, the ground coming hurtling towards you at break-neck speed, gravity taking a hold upon your body, yet despite all of this, you feel like you're living your life in slow motion. Then you reach the bottom of the stairs all of a sudden and you hit your head on something hard, perhaps a wall, and then you are left to swim in an ocean of darkness; you let it wash over you, the warm moisture with the sickly taste of rusted metal, and you try to swim afloat but it's just no use. The dark ocean of unconsciousness has taken you and there is nothing you can do about it.
I woke up some time later in a white, clinical room - I was definitely not in the university now. There was an annoying beeping somewhere nearby although at that moment I couldn't pinpoint exactly where it was coming from, but I learned that everytime I moved it spiked my breathing and the beeping would speed up in protest. I had no idea where I was but I had resolved to complain to whoever was in charge that the place was quiet and peaceful except from the annoying beeping. I moved my hand to my face to push my hair back out of my eyes and noticed a creme, plastic thing on my finger. I knew it didn't belong there and looked like a clothes line peg, so I pulled it off. It came off fairly easily which I was pleased about, and more than anything, it stopped the annoying beeping.