At the Moment

I can't feel sad anymore. I feel very empty, like there is a part of me being torn apart and taken away. I can't feel my blood. My heart feels like it has stopped, and I am exhaling more than I am breathing. I am losing things... physical and mental. Well, or you can say, I am losing part of my soul... disappear, empty...

And yet, I am writing a paper... Seriously, I don't know what I am typing anymore. I don't know about expression, communication, emotion, and I don't know what I wanna say... yet I call myself a composer. Maybe I became a composer because I wanted to learn all these...

I really think that life is beautiful, at least it should be... well actually, I think that part of life should be ugly; otherwise, you never realize life is beautiful, right?

See? I really am not sure what I wanna say, but I still keep typing... I wish I can do that with my paper. Well, someone's gonna correct my paper though, and I can say whatever the hell I want here...

it's really not professional, oh well, for once?

I am writing about plainchant and mass in the Renaissance. It gives me a serious headache. I enjoy listening to them very much, but they are hard to understand.

I'm typing, I'm typing, I'm typing... I'm not thinking. I can't think. Why am I here? Why am I typing? I don't know anymore, really...