Overrated | The Voice France / MIKA & OC

4.6 - Live 1. Minutes before

Yeah, stuff. Stuff that I can proudly call my job now - rehearsing, giving interviews, doing photo shoots, trying on outfits, training with choreographers and so on. There's nothing much to tell, but the more I get into all these new, absolutely strange to me worries, the more I feel fitting in, comfortable. I mean, singing is what I enjoyed the most all my life, and now I found a way to make it my real job! Because, well, I did get paid for the three performances I've made, and it shifted my paradigm completely:

I. Am. A singer!

I told about it Mika, and he seemed to understand me and even praise it:

- I had the same thoughts when I first started performing, when I was a kid, - he said during our last rehearsals, - Since then I knew I don't want to do anything else than making music. And I'm really glad that you feel the same. So go on this stage tomorrow and show it to everyone else, ok? I'm telling you, it's going to be so good.

His words cheered me up and kept me in high spirits for the rest of the day. You know, even if I don't see him every day, he's still my coach, and he believes in me!

So, today I wake up with the feeling that something wonderful is going to happen.

Today is the day. It's Saturday.

Can't believe I've gotten through the week already.

The last days were especially tense, and I spent them mostly running all around the studio. Considering my ability to get lost, I would be so screwed in all those infinite corridors if I didn't have Gaspard, to whom I clang on and followed him like his little sister. He didn't mind. In fact, he seemed to be glad that we finally had time to talk, and it turns out, we have pretty much in common. Too much, I would say. If I tell Justine, she's gonna ship us so hard...

Anyway, it's 8 am. I gotta get up.

So I roll out of bed and walk to the bathroom. Can't help staring at myself in the mirror.

Yesterday we had a meeting with the show stylist. Lenny messed a bit with my hair and said then:

- Would you mind if we make you blonde?

I thought it was a joke. Of course it wasn't. They said it will make me look more adult. My first thought was - screw you, I like myself as I am! But then, remembering my dream about Wonder-Alice, I agreed.

So, yeah, now I'm dark blonde with a blue strand on the left (that was my only condition - to keep it). Looks pretty good, actually. I guess it was this little change that brought me up as well.

One step closer to that mysterious, better me. Let me just grow more confidence...

Karen interrupts my thoughts, knocking on bathroom's door.

- Hey, - she greets me, then adds, having a quick look on me, - Nice color.

- Thanks, - I reply quietly. We haven't spoken since that incident on Tuesday. I thought she still had kind of a bad opinion about me. So I ask her right away, - You're still mad at me?

- Nah, - she rolls her eyes, - I mean, Emily is kinda depressed, and that's messed up, but there's no point in isolating you because of that. Now would you kindly free the bathroom?

Lucas, obviously, chose the same strategy, as he speaks to me as always, like nothing happened.

Emily, however, is the one that keeps distance, though we still get to talk, as Team Mika sing all together France Gall's "Résiste" during the show. I guess I've done all I can. Anyway, nothing of this will make sense if I get eliminated today, right?

Right. Eliminated. This is the only thought that darkens my expectations of this night.

Disturbance grows slowly, as time goes by, and excitement that gave me energy and brought me up starts to feel more and more uncomfortable. It becomes obvious just before the show, when I'm putting on my outfit. This time it's a quite severe-looking knitted dress with stripes of black alternating with stripes of thin net. Legs are all covered with feet-length skirt, so no one can see my bandaged knee (they also made the bandage skin-toned, though). However, stylists also gave me heavy high-hill boots, looking quite dangerous to walk in. They said it's because they want to highlight my height and all that stuff, but darn, are they trying to kill me? Knowing my tricky karma, it's, like 9 out of 10 that I fall!