Outside of my changing room, I hear the crowd whisper excitedly, anticipating the moment when I step onto stage. I keep my nerves bottled up inside, not daring to speak of my jitters to anyone. I shouldn't be nervous; I've been on stage hundreds of times. But nevertheless, this happens every time before a concert. But when performing, I get lost in the music and forget that there are thousands of people watching and listening. It's almost like a trance. I'm completely unaware of my surroundings and focusing entirely on the music I'm making.

I step out of my dressing room, running my hands over my attire, to make sure it remains unwrinkled. Then a stage assistant is by my side telling me I have to be on stage in thirty seconds. I can hear the screaming. They're chanting my name, unable to wait another second to see me perform. Steeling myself, I take a deep breath and walk towards the curtains.

I'm met with one of my biggest turnouts yet. The never-ending sea of blurry faces fill the whole room. Not one seat is empty. I plaster a huge smile on my face and sit down at my seat in front of the piano, not even bothering to address the crowd, knowing no one would hear my anyway. With a shallow breath, I begin my piece.