I’d been so close, but not close enough. The thought of stabbing a needle through my arm honestly seemed more appealing than replaying all ten pages of the first movement. Thinking back to those “Traffic Zoo” days and acknowledging how far I’d come as a pianist since then, I felt an internal urge to keep going. The clock read ten o’clock, and calluses had formed on my fingers, but I didn’t care. Multiple run-throughs later, the impossible happened. I’d played the entire first movement from beginning to end without stumbling. It was far from perfect, but that didn’t matter, because for a moment, I was a perfectionist in my own
I’d been so close, but not close enough. The thought of stabbing a needle through my arm honestly seemed more appealing than replaying all ten pages of the first movement. Thinking back to those “Traffic Zoo” days and acknowledging how far I’d come as a pianist since then, I felt an internal urge to keep going. The clock read ten o’clock, and calluses had formed on my fingers, but I didn’t care. Multiple run-throughs later, the impossible happened. I’d played the entire first movement from beginning to end without stumbling. It was far from perfect, but that didn’t matter, because for a moment, I was a perfectionist in my own