The next morning I wake up to a message.
It's not the one I want. It's not Cam. I nearly don't read it. But I do.
It's from the orchestra - The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra.
I open the message. I don't read the first few lines. My eyes skim directly to the line that stops me in my tracks.
**********
...We are sorry to inform you that we cannot offer you a place within the orchestra at this particular time. Unless otherwise indicated, we are happy to keep your details in the event that any viable positions become available in the future. Thank you...
It continues. I don't read it. I knew. I knew, but that doesn't soften it. I'm a failure.
It's so painful. I keep re-reading it, we cannot offer you a place. Again and again. I cannot be a musician. I have put my whole life into a dream that I am not good enough for. How can I choose to change paths now? I am not talented or educated enough in any other areas. There's no options for me. No future.
Am I being dramatic? Am I being pathetic? But I can't control the torrent of existential questions that bombard me, one predominant at the front of my mind: What makes life worth living?
YOU ARE READING
Joining the Dots
Fiction générale"Life doesn't come gently, it hits you all at once. A tsunami of events." "Anxiety makes being a musician hard. Anxiety makes life hard. My passion, my dreams seem so far away. I could touch it all once, but once is distant now." "I want to be happy...
