I was sitting on a stage, with my hands sweaty and shaking. On my lap was a classical guitar, and before me, a room fool of parents. I was twelve and very insecure. I loved playing music, but only when I was in my room, alone. It was the music school's end-of-year recital, and we all had to perform on that stage. I did my best to avoid it. I even intentionally broke one of my nails, hoping it would get me out of that.
It didn't work, so not only did I still have to perform, but I also had to do it with a broken nail.
I was scared.
What if I make a mistake? Everyone would make fun of me.
As if I needed another reason to be teased.
Anyway, I was there, and there were no ways out. The teacher gave me the sign, and I started.
I played a waltz by Bach.
My exhibition was probably less than two minutes long but felt like an entire concert. I made a few mistakes here and there, so I was apprehensive when I finished. However, it looked like nobody noticed my errors, and they applauded.
I asked my parents at the show's end, and I played perfectly according to them. But hey, parents are always kind. So, I also asked someone else, and they all agreed that my exhibition was perfect.
How come nobody noticed my mistakes?
The smiling teacher told me they didn't know that waltz from Bach, so they didn't know what I was supposed to play. So, I was worried for nothing.
If I could go back in time, I would tell that shy teenager not to waste energy worrying about making mistakes. Most of the time, nobody knows what you are supposed to say, play or do.