I'm dead.

I'm dying, I'm dying, I'm dying, I'm dying, I'm dead.

I've been counting the minutes since noon. Two hours till the showcase. I am a nervous wreck. Can't think straight, can't wait for it to be over, hoping it'll never come. I used Patrick's toothbrush by mistake.

I am not going to be able to squeak out a single sound. I will clamber onstage and pass out, unconscious. A heart attack at 28. I cannot do this, I think.