Days go just like that. One blink, and it's gone. Like pigment bleeding too fast on wet paper—you can try to control it, but the edge always fades somewhere beyond your will. I can barely remember what day it is unless I look at my phone. The planner I tried to keep updated is now buried beneath a pile of rough sketch paper and gum wrappers in my backpack.
Final exam week is coming. And Laudeith feels like it's breathing faster than usual.
Everywhere I go, there's this quiet urgency. Animation students hunched over their tablets in cafe, surrounded by styluses and energy drinks. Film majors lugging camera rigs bigger than they are, whispering arguments about lighting and shot lists. Acting students rehearsing lines in the courtyard, gesturing dramatically at nothing. The musicians are always the loudest—scales and riffs spilling from open practice room windows like water—and the musical theatre kids? Somehow louder. Louder and constantly dancing.
