The Mystery of Anaïs Harper Hill.

is this how i die

Is this how I die? - Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1918

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"Mathematics is the abstract key which turns the lock of the physical universe." - John Polkinghorne, 1930.

Mathematics is an irrelevant and unnecessary blight on her existence, seemed more fitting. She wanted to go into Journalism. What relevance, pray tell, was Calculus? Coordinate Geometry? Quadratic Equations? There was none, and yet she was stuck at school, ready to bash her head against the nearest rock. It wasn't the teacher that made her so opposed to maths, but the sheer impertinence of the subject. She had to do Maths, she had to do Chemistry, and she wanted to drop out of school. An allergy to numbers was considered, but she concluded that she was just unmotivated, that not being a lie.

Along those lines, she picked up Psychology instead of Music at the beginning of year 11, and she sorely regretted it. Why, why, is rote learning that many case studies necessary? Sure, there were applications and it was possible that it would be useful in her practice counselling for her needy friends, but all she's gotten from it is that her friends need psychiatrists, and she sorely wished that her school offered Musical Theatre as a subject. Now that she could do.

Her range was impressive, to say the least (C3 at the bottom, F3 to F5 in a belt, A6 in head voice, but she hit a D7 once. Solid Christine Daaé, without the operatic style), and she had the emotional maturity to take on difficult roles, despite not yet being able to drink. Already on her laptop, an extensive list of possible audition songs adorned her desktop screen, alongside vocal warm ups and a list of broadway shows she absolutely must watch.

Hamilton, Wicked, Dear Evan Hansen, Mean Girls, Phantom Of The Opera, Hadestown, Frozen and way too many more for her budget. One of her resumé talents included listing over 10 broadway theatres by memory. Gershwin, Richard Rogers, Music Box, Lyceum, Broadhurst, Nederlander, Vivian Beaumont, St James, Brooke Atkinsons, Walter Kerr, August Wilson, Winter Garden, Majestic. Even more, but she's tired.

See that light overhead? It shows her energy level. Before, it was through the roof. Now, it's almost perpetually dim, unless I meander across an energy boost I can give her. Last time I did though, she was running across a beach manically taking photos. So those are stored until completely necessary. Look, as she's falling asleep, the "outside" scenery has shifted to something more ethereal, peaceful.

Don't get me wrong, her emotional state is anything but, however, I have taken to overriding her trauma so she can at least fall asleep. Unethical, perhaps, but emotional aestheticization is much better than the uncontrollable flames that threaten to engulf both of us until we are reduced to mere ash. 

Take my word for it.

 She almost died.

~~~

xlyssx