No one writes in diaries anymore.


7. Tuesday 12th May 2015 - Seventh Entry

There were other things I wanted to talk about today. How tiring P.E. was, for example, or the continuation of yesterday's argument between my brother and my mother I had to endure listening to.

However, what I feel I really need to put into words is something that happened to me just now. I've just returned from work. It is nearly midnight and I am exhausted. Just as I stepped out of the bathroom from showering, my mother called out to me and stated that the results for my violin exam had arrived.

I got a B.

Before anyone goes on and says 'Oh, that's good', let me tell you - a B in an AMEB examination is not good. It's actually the fourth best mark someone could get. There's A+, A, B+ and then B. It's just barely acceptable.

When I heard my mark from my mother, I wanted to cry. This huge wave of sadness suddenly came over me and so I immediately retreated to my room, collapsed onto my bed and merely stared at the ceiling for a long while.

I thought about a lot of things. All negative. To think that the best I could get after 10 years of effort was a B grade in my 8th Grade exam. When I think about how much time I put in, about how much I've sacrificed when I could have been doing so much more - even the prospect that I had even skipped school, something I've never done before - I couldn't help but cry. Even now as I am typing these words, as my fingers patter against my keyboard, the tears will not stop. It is too painful. I feel like my life, now, is only full of regrets.

My grandfather would always tell me how lucky I am to be able to play the violin. At the moment, I believe violin to have only been a misfortune. What did I play the violin for? I know for sure that it was not for fun. Since a long time ago, violin was never 'fun'. But who learns the violin just so they can do well on an exam. That's why I feel so strongly about this, why I feel so deeply that my time has been wasted. My precious childhood.

I don't even understand half the reason for my tears. I can't fathom whether it's more because of my disappointment of such a grade for my exam, or because all my efforts have amounted to nothing. One thing I do know for sure is that if I had scored better, then I would feel these years of practice were worth more than something. But that's just an 'if'. What I also know is that inside me at the moment is this huge cloud of negative emotions all swirling inside me like a storm and all that I am doing by writing this diary entry is providing only the tiniest of openings for those bottled up sentiments to escape. That's because I know, even if I continue to write and rant and pent, my mark will not improve. My lost time will not return. I will still have solved nothing.

What I desire most is to forget - no, even that would not ease my pain. I want to take everything back. Do you understand what I mean when I say that? But it'll never happen, I know for sure. I thought, surely, violin would bring some goodness into my life but why is it that I only feel grief and regret? Why is it that whenever I think of violin now, I only think of suffering and sorrow? What happened to the me that was once entranced by the sound such a beautiful instrument could make - the me that would listen to Pachelbel's Canon every day and would rejoice when she finally learned to play it?


Why am I a different person that the person I was seven years ago?


I have always wanted to find someone who would understand me. When I think about it, very few will be able to empathize with the words I have penned. Most would dismiss it as the complaints of a spoiled, selfish brat. That's why I so desperately have always searched for a person I could confide it.

The answer was an inanimate object.

I was still crying, only moments ago. Now, I feel strangely calm. But it is a strange calm. It is the kind of calm a person would feel when they're about to do something stupid just because it seems so logical in their state of mind. Still, at the very least, I've come to accept, even slightly, that no matter what I do nothing will change. That also means that by writing this entry, still, nothing has changed.


I wonder if I will ever pick up a violin again. 

I wonder if I will ever listen to a piece and cry from how painful it is to listen to.

I wonder what's wrong with this damn world for putting expectations on children to be able to play an instrument well.

And it's not just instruments. What's the point of exams, I ask you, if all it leads to is suicide?

I wonder when did I stop believing I could change the world.


One thought leads to another and I just want to stop now. I just want to stop thinking because thinking breeds depression.

I just want to disappear. As I said yesterday - to escape. I want to escape into another world.


I won't bother reading over this entry before posting it. Ignore the mistakes, ignore the errors. I wrote this entry during the height of my mind's internal struggle. I don't want to edit it. Those mistakes were the result of my confusion, my anger, my frustrations...

If I were to take those human characteristics away, would it really be genuine?

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