The curtains open. All is the conversation ceased. Music floods my head at the very last second and I somehow managed remember my song. A burst of adrenaline runs through my body as my heart starts to race. I manage to pull smile together. I take a deep breath, imagine a perfect down beat and listen to the music begin to play behind me.
The downbeat was given and nervousness starts to rush every part of my body. Oddly enough by my entrance I start to play with the calm feeling. My music begins to rush through my scattered brain. I forget I’m on stage and think of my studio. Studio number five. I have gone through so much in that one room, countless teachers telling me what to do. “Don’t let your arms drop, wrist straight, be complex, simple, make your music flow, FINGER PATTERNS, measure with your fingers, louder, I SAID LOUDER”, they all use to say. Everyone use to tell me I would never be good enough, that I would never make it. I started to believe this until someone told me “don’t listen to them, performing is you”. He was there at my first concert and gave me a flower made from old sheet music. I have not gone a single day without thinking of what he told me and still hold this flower everytime before I perform.

She is always wondering if she is with me and always wondering if she needs to slow down, speed up, play louder, or softer. I can’t help to feel bad for her as she barely gets any credit.

A young girl, half way to profession. I’m only 15, just starting my life when performing becomes my way of life. I am always practicing and traveling, Boston, Cleveland, Boise all seem to become tiny places. I have thoughts rushing through my head and by the end of my song, my mind always comes back to the hard reality, “you are in front of hundreds of people wearing the most beautiful dress you have ever seen. I am so lucky to be me.”