I sighed as I sat my hands next to me on the piano bench, stretching my back. An audible groan released from my mouth, as the torturous sound of all the wrong notes I played echoed through my mind. “C’mon Nate, this is just plain trash…” I muttered to myself as I shut my eyes. Life as a freshman at conservatory was not what I had expected. I thought I would fall in even deeper love with music. And sure, maybe I did at that point, but the expectation of performing consistently spiked my stress levels to an excruciating high degree. Even more so towards the end of that semester.
With the final examinations just a little under a month away, the usual traffic in the practice rooms had increased. During the day, the trumpet majors seemed to be playing even louder, the violins played even faster. And, of course, the frantic fingers of piano players could be heard even through the thickness of the practice room doors.