There it is, the last day, the last time i'll be entering into the halls. I remember the slim hallway, with the light all above, typical of a hotel room, not far away, the lifts with the few of the city. I stood outside, walking to and fro, my feelings, were quite plain, i had the usual nerves, the trembles, but other than that, my mind sort of strayed. It was my last time, why was i so distracted?
As i stepped into the small room, i didn't expect to see what i saw. Memories of grade one came flooding back, but i blocked them away. Things were quiet, the mere aura of the room screams fear and it weighed heavily upon me. I sat down quietly, and did played what i was instructed to play. Things were well , trembling went to the minimum. All of a sudden, at the start of the in thirds, the calm before the strom ended , and things came crashing down.
Every note i played, was a blur. I started several times, panic took me, i trembled badly. As i saw infront of me, my dreams were crashing. Everything went the opposite way, i could not control my fingers. Arpeggios were horrible, notes were blur, dominants were like the sound of crashing cars. Dimished went worse among all the scales, i played the wrong thing, b flat was not so major in a diminished seventh. A wave of foul words overtook my mind, things took a turn for the worse.
Pieces. I was already shocked , scared and frightened. I started playing, my fingers were no longer mine, they had a mind of their own, speed went out of control, trills were more like a child smashing his or her fingers on the keyboard. Second piece: a climax of it's own. Things were stuck to their position, but that's where the mistakes originated from. The papers were stuck in between the spaces, a point that i realised but had not thought of the consequences. I started playing, had difficulty continuing a phrase, i had to do it over and over and again. I was frustrated, i had practiced, that i was sure of, but i guess maybe not enough. Just as i continued, somewhere around the last lines of the piece, the papers fell, they cover and sagged upon the keyboard, panic took me. The papers covered the bass notes, i could not play my left hand, the trills again sounded horrible. The ending : WAS HORRIBLE, i could not even finish the complete cadence. Dissapointment. Third piece, was utter rubbish. It lacked the clarity and the feeling that it needed. I was so terrified, nothing came through, nothing showed, everything was just as worse as how i played it a year ago.
Aural : great, i have more things to make me feel sick of myself. Just as i thought it could help me, by hearing all the bass notes clearly, having them in tune, in full, in pitch in my head, the voice that came out of my lips were like screeching brakes. It was completely out of tune, again, the messages my brain send were not received, every part of me had a mind of it's own. Identifying cadences and modulations were worse, all poor guessing. Explanations, were vague, i was clueless, i was useless. Sight reading was just a blow of wind during i hurricane, it wouldn't help much.
As i walked out, my heart sank. I crushed my own dreams, i saw the column and pillars that i built tumble down, my mind, accepted the fact that i had failed . All those years, of endless practice. Now my soul is empty. Everytime i hear the sound of the magnificent piano, my heart aches, for my love for it is limitless, yet, i know that i have no chance, that i could never be what i hear. The sound of stroke strings echoes in my empty heart, and it flows through my veins, filled with blood of ice, i want it's comfort, yet, it is the cause of my pain. I am lost, a drifting leaf, i am but only another wave in the sea, a moment in it's glory, but then, it falls upon itself , forever gone, unheard of .
