Daniel sat on the rock by the lake, the place where he usually spent his time thinking, or singing to himself. Today, he was writing. Writing something that would change his life, for the better hopefully. It was his application to the New York performing arts school, Juliard. He clutched his quil, trying to think clearly. But his brain did not want to work. It was hard. They were simple questions, but they looked like a word jumble to him. He sighed.
"Daniel Heartford, you have dreamt of this since you were a little boy, suck it up, and write the application" he scolded himself, outloud. He sighed and tapped the tip of his quil on the rock. Why was he so nervous?
"Daniel Heartford, you have dreamt of this since you were a little boy, suck it up, and write the application" he scolded himself, outloud. He sighed and tapped the tip of his quil on the rock. Why was he so nervous?
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