Love With Abandon

I am a Diva

I awoke to beautifully papered walls, and a view that over looked the whole of Dallas. The sheets felt like clouds on my bare skin, cool, yet comfortably warm, soothing my throbbing head.

Wait...bare skin?

I sprung up in bed. Looking to the side, I saw a beautiful boy in bed next to me, looking about twenty years old. Realizing I had forced a man to break the law, I sat there stunned. I must've ruffled up the sheets in my silence, because the boy stirred. His face turned into a grimace, probably because of the headache I had no doubt was coursing through his whole head right now.

He then noticed me, and realized he was naked underneath the sheets.

"Did we..." he stammered, unable to finish his question.

"I don't know," I whispered.

I'd always imagined giving my virginity to someone I knew, someone I trusted, someone I loved, the person for me. I don't remember much of last night, only an excruciatingly painful pleasure.

"I need to go," I suddenly burst out, needing to get out of the room. Hastily, I pulled on a towel, and changed into my clothes underneath it.

"Wait..." the nameless young man said, trying to make me stay.

But I had already left, knowing that if I allowed myself to open up, to let myself hope, break through my walls, I would be left crushed and broken again, right after my soul began to mend.

***

Groaning, I returned to the crowded farmhouse that half of the contestants shared. Although it had been drowned by the drama of this morning, it returned again.

Today was vocal training with Sasha, and choreography with Darren. Fun.

"Hi! Ready to start on your vocals?" Sasha asked kindly as I entered the room.

This was going to be a long day.

***

Being on the X-Factor seems fun, but it's pressuring. People aren't exxagerating when they say the practice 10 hours a day. In fact, they are underestimating themselves. We wake up at 9 o' clock, have an hour to prepare, rehearse until nine, and the rest of the night is our free time. We only need to rehearse four hours a day, but everyone practices much longer. Some even put their song on replay while they sleep. Everyone here looked dead; they all had blue bruises under their eyes, they stumbled on their steps as they walked. It would drive any weaker man crazy, but not us. We had emotional strength that only people who had gone through what we had gone through has.

Overall, it was chaos. The only days we ever took the time to relax were those few days we got a whole day to ourselves, free from songs, free from the pressure. Those days were the ones that everyone was looking forward to, along with the day we could finally perform our song, and leave the possibility of national humiliation behind us.

I didn't know if this week's song was good for me, honestly. I left the house, and I didn't feel stronger, as Kelly did. I actually felt the same way as I did a year ago. While Kelly felt more braver, stronger, wiser, I, on the other hand, felt weak. Vulnerable. Depressed.

The only good pare that made up for everything was the feeling that I was actually breathing, that I wasn't being pushed around to do things while others watched, laughing.

I realized "Stronger" wasn't the song for me, somewhere during the middle of Soundcheck. There was no emotion when I sang it. There was emptiness. Neither the tone or the lyrics spoke to me. Taylor would never agree to the song change. She wanted me to change, to change my rising depression, make me happy.