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I can't handle it.
I just can't.
End of story.
Okay, so I'm arrogant.
Okay, so I can't stand not to be the best.
Okay, so I don't deal well with adversity.
Let's admit it: she's got a superiority complex, is far too proud, can't admit she's second (or third, or fourth, or thirtieth, or seven-hundred-and-sixty-ninth) best.
And she isn't going to be able to take academic classes with cellists in the conservatory. She isn't going to be able to sit next to them, knowing that they're part of something she couldn't make it into. She isn't going to be able to do it. Nope. She's going to fall apart, cry every night, knowing that she's not good enough. And it's going to be horrible.
I just can't.
End of story.
Okay, so I'm arrogant.
Okay, so I can't stand not to be the best.
Okay, so I don't deal well with adversity.
Let's admit it: she's got a superiority complex, is far too proud, can't admit she's second (or third, or fourth, or thirtieth, or seven-hundred-and-sixty-ninth) best.
And she isn't going to be able to take academic classes with cellists in the conservatory. She isn't going to be able to sit next to them, knowing that they're part of something she couldn't make it into. She isn't going to be able to do it. Nope. She's going to fall apart, cry every night, knowing that she's not good enough. And it's going to be horrible.
