I lifted my body slightly off of the black wooden bench – the beads of sweat on my thighs were making me feel disgusting. I was going crazy; it felt like that at any moment I could jump up from adrenaline and do something harmful to myself. But I held back that feeling with all my might and breathed in and out listening to the silent shuffle of a hidden audience. I placed my fingers on the pure white keys and felt them contaminate the keys with sweat. Everything was a blur to me – the glistening keys, the rush of emotions, the muddle thoughts that were pouring into my mind.
“This is it,” I thought, “This is my chance to make it to the top. One mistake – one note too short – and I could lose everything I spent a year working for…” I began to play, at first the white and black notes all became a mixture to me. They all felt the same, slippery and heavy. After a minute I could finally tell which note was which – it’s amazing that I didn’t mess up yet. I played through the piece, with every part of my body sweating along. “This is the end. Just one last –
Wrong Note.”
The entire audience sat a little straighter. The evil wrong note that had to last for four measures. My hands trembled until it was over – as though they were trying to slide up and down a violin’s string to find the right note. I could already feel tears well up in my eyes. I could already imagine my parent’s response. I could already hear the Song of Perfection fading away.
No comments:
Post a Comment