The smell of disinfectants and antiseptics that clings in hospitals fills my nose, and I shiver slightly.
It's cold.
Mr Gray reads from the clip in his hands before exhaling and facing me after ten minutes of silence.
"We talked about this. You cannot exert your body anymore," he says as he removes his glasses. "At this rate, you will collapse, and things will be graver than they already are."
Same story, only this time, I feel the words that are said to me by the doctor.
Three months in, and I forget what it felt like to be healthy.
I have been overworking, I know this. I no longer spend time in my recording studio but instead, fill my time in the dance studio. It's all I want to do; it's all I can do nowadays.
Hiding this has been harder, especially to my manager, who seems to have a grudge with me because of the number of times I have run away from him.
I fainted while dancing, exerted myself a little too much even when I felt my body get to its limit, but I had to do it.
