Drunk on Fame (1D fanfic)

7 - Eva

~~~ Eva ~~~

The past few days had been weird. I'd turned 17, which made me feel extremely old. But also I'd been accepted into the London Academy of Performing Arts, majoring in music and drama.

Yes, I was excited, finally getting to do what I wanted, and I was pretty sure that Performing Arts schools were going to be a whole new education experience, but to fulfil my dream, I had to actually move to London. At the moment I shared a small flat with my mum down in Abbotsbury, near Cornwall, and I've never lived alone. Ever.

In all honesty the idea of moving by myself made me feel sick to my stomach. The idea of a 4 hour car journey to get to the one person I loved most in the world terrified me. If anything went wrong, I could only speak to her over the phone.

I wasn't the best at making friends... I could do it, but when I knew nobody at all, the idea of putting my trust in a stranger was horrible. All this thinking that I'd been doing over the past week was just making me more and more nervous, instead of calming me, as it usually did. 

I'd been given a scholarship for the school, because my mum and I had no spare money, so it was a big chance, and I couldn't just throw it away. Even though I had to go through a couple of auditions before I was accepted, I still had a gut feeling that every student was going to be ten times better at everything than me. I played piano, guitar and saxophone, and could sing ok, but I really wasn't the best, and I was so nervous that they'd all be grade 7 or something. My drama skills were good, and I'd been picked for a couple of lead roles at school and in my local drama group, but was that really enough?

I shook my head. Why was I always comparing myself to others? Putting myself down, and lowering my self esteem. It was a habit I'd picked up on when my dad left, telling me I was worthless, ugly and talentless. That's one of things that had driven me though. Without those cold, harsh words, I wouldn't've felt like I needed to prove him wrong. If he had stayed, and molly-coddled me, I would've felt perfect, and like everything would go my way, and I wouldn't have to work for anything at all, ever. So, in some ways it was a wakeup call, even though I was only 5 at the time.

I picked up some clothes from the pile that had just come out of the tumble-dryer, and stuffed them into a case. I then uncapped my red marker pen, striking off another day on my calendar. 2 days left.