Doushite? ;_;

Tomorrow at 8:30, I need to be up. I'm playing in a small competition at 11 AM in Midtown.

It is currently 4:30 and I woke up with a desperate urge to find out about possible piano competitions and summer festivals. Oh, and the burning desire to succeed at piano. Why why why why why. Why do you hate me, brain? Are you nervous? You've been sleeping so well. Why tonight?

God, I hate you so much right now, brain. Please turn yourself off.