The Rock Rollercoaster

1. Seasons of Love

Emotions.

That's what I'm supposed to be writing down.

That's what my therapist says I should do. He says it will help to forget and start over.

I don't need a therapist. I don't really like my therapist.

So I'm not going to do what my therapist says to do. I can feel him staring at me from his fancy swivel chair behind his fancy desk. Whatever.

Emotions.

They'll just bring back memories that Charles (that's my therapist) will try to get me to explain.

Maybe there's no avoiding them though, in the end.

I remember it started on a Wednesday. I hate Wednesdays. And then it was a rollercoaster. I love rollercoasters.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The smell of sweat and nerves was like a palpable cloud backstage. Well, behind the shabby curtain constructed at the side of the stage.

Dressed in the custom long-sleeved black top and black trousers, the choir were hushed in a way that most musicians find difficult. Maybe that's because the Trent Secondary School choir weren't really musicians. Not real ones, anyway.

Just people with nothing to do after school, nerds who wanted to fill the stereotype and wannabes who tried too hard to be creative. And me.

Waiting for Mary Dregg to finish her speech as class president was like torture. She had probably spent hours thinking of the right words, but to me, every word felt wrong. Too much sentiment and girl power.

This was the moment I had been building up to my whole life - as my father kept saying. The last day of my last year at school. How time flies, I thought sarcastically. One last assembly before the lower class men, and we were free. And part of this assembly was a performance by Trent's very own school choir. Unfortunately, I was a part of this.

Don't get me wrong, I loved to sing and I loved everything musical. It was the one thing that remained constant and steady. But the choir was so phoney it was unreal.

As Mary finally ended her speech, the sighs of relief were almost audible from the audience. The choir filed onto the stage area, three lines, height arranged. I was right in the middle of the middle, crowded in on all sides.

The music started and we began to sing. 

Five hundred twenty-five thousand

Six hundred minutes,

Five hundred twenty-five thousand

Moments so dear.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand

Six hundred minutes

How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights

In cups of coffee

In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.

In five hundred twenty-five thousand

Six hundred minutes

How do you measure

A year in the life?

How about love?

How about love?

How about love? Measure in love