We’re on bus 8. Finally. The Allen stadium is still lit up bright; all the lights are shining full power.
I’ve had to pee since the beginning of warmups for finals. I still haven’t gone. I’ll just wait until I get home, which won’t be until one. I’ve been awake since 5:45 this morning. Well, yesterday morning.

18 hours

Angela’s next to me being a real downer. Ruining the good mood I had after a great finals show. She’s all sweaty and sad and complaining about almost fainting and shaking and feeling like she’s about to die.

Suck it up. We all feel like we’re about to die.

The bus just turned on. Howard hops on the bus. The door makes that *pcheeeww* sound. We should be rolling out soon.
Bed. That’s all I want. The feeling of closed eyes, lashes curving down making small shadows on the tips of my cheekbones.

Someone once told me they did that.

I look up out the window. One star. I wish I were as far away from here as that star.