The stage lights blared down on my trembling body as I tried to force a smile onto anxious face. The year-end concert had approached and the moment for the audience to be introduced to the elegant melody of Gabriel’s Oboe had finally arrived. The hours spent perfecting my tone, the repetition of phrases to perfect my rhythm, all led up to my hope of performing a faultless solo. As the conductor nodded his head and the the phrase the band behind my played escalated, the first notes spoke from the wooden instrument I grasped in my shivering hands. The F, E, G, A, C, resonated around the auditorium and boomed off the sound beams back into my determined mind. Without hesitation, the melody streamed out of my oboe like a graceful butterfly, soaring
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My mind became frazzled, with what had just happened. Keep playing. Silence. The once fluid melody abruptly ended. The once beaming faces now displayed frowns of disappointment. The once elegant accompaniment now hesitated to continue without the sound from the oboe. I fell into a black hole of confusion, and mindlessly I pulled the reed from my mouth and stormed off the stage, leaving an empty spotlight. It was not until I heard the music stop that I realized what had just occurred. The apparently impeccable performance had become one of flaws and weakness. I had failed–failed to perform the solo–failed to live up to the audience’s expectations–failed to live up to my dream of perfection. The remaining events of the concert remained a blur and I woke up to the familiar sight of a wooden bed, disorganized closet and compassionate mother whose hand lay on my side as gesture of compassion.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I whimpered, still in shock. I curled up into a ball as an attempt to block out the horrors of the world. If I don’t move, nothing can happen to me. Yet, the emotions growing inside of me fought back, forcing me to open my eyes to the
My mind became frazzled, with what had just happened. Keep playing. Silence. The once fluid melody abruptly ended. The once beaming faces now displayed frowns of disappointment. The once elegant accompaniment now hesitated to continue without the sound from the oboe. I fell into a black hole of confusion, and mindlessly I pulled the reed from my mouth and stormed off the stage, leaving an empty spotlight. It was not until I heard the music stop that I realized what had just occurred. The apparently impeccable performance had become one of flaws and weakness. I had failed–failed to perform the solo–failed to live up to the audience’s expectations–failed to live up to my dream of perfection. The remaining events of the concert remained a blur and I woke up to the familiar sight of a wooden bed, disorganized closet and compassionate mother whose hand lay on my side as gesture of compassion.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I whimpered, still in shock. I curled up into a ball as an attempt to block out the horrors of the world. If I don’t move, nothing can happen to me. Yet, the emotions growing inside of me fought back, forcing me to open my eyes to the