I walked into Bellevue Middle School, getting ready for an audition on the violin. My friend tried to give me some last-minute encouragement as we stood outside, but as soon as I walked into the audition room, my fate was sealed.
My fingers were covered in sweat, and they shook so much that you could hear it in my playing. I shifted to the wrong notes, my rhythm was off, and my anxiety crashed through the roof. I could feel the judgemental stares of the evaluators from behind the lifeless foam screen. All those hours spent practicing, resulting in cricks, backaches and sore shoulders, were wasted.
On the day the results were posted, I cried in the safety of blankets and darkness. Yet I was still determined to go back and try again. I made
My fingers were covered in sweat, and they shook so much that you could hear it in my playing. I shifted to the wrong notes, my rhythm was off, and my anxiety crashed through the roof. I could feel the judgemental stares of the evaluators from behind the lifeless foam screen. All those hours spent practicing, resulting in cricks, backaches and sore shoulders, were wasted.
On the day the results were posted, I cried in the safety of blankets and darkness. Yet I was still determined to go back and try again. I made