I don't want to be here.
 
Stuck in my room with piles of manuscripts

and notes.
Recordings.

Books
on how to perform.
perform as a soloist
as a leader
as the Bass Voice of an Orchestral Brass Section
as a tuba in a small ensemble

and yet

nothing on how to create an ensemble to perform in.


I have countless awards, acknowledgements:

scraps of paper attached to bittersweet memories.
 

I can play what

Six?
Seven?

Does anyone care?

i can count on one hand the people who care what professional solos a high schooler can play.

It's what I've Prided myself on over the years.

it doesn't matter

What does matter is that you enjoy it and you find it fulfilling.

And I do.

well

i have.


but now

the competitions are over

competitions for which i should never have been eligible


Now i know how superficial they are

Because really, I have nothing to show now.


i have tried, played, performed my best 


alone.


that's what it truely feels like.

 
i am alone.

 
Because even those who

don't care

don't take music as seriously as i do


whom i scorn

 
get the privelege

the profound privelege

of making music


They have gained.
I have lost.
 

i thought i could make it without them

but in the end.


i'd trade it all

for one last chance


to play the Suite in Eb