"Doubt not. Fear not."
Placing my exact thoughts/feelings into words seems impossible. As an eight-year-old, an hour was sufficient. One hour evolved into two, then three, then four, and now six or eight. Eight hours of chords, cadences, passages, phrases... Czerny, Hanon, Chopin, Liszt, Rachmaninoff, Prokofiev, Schumann, Beethoven, Scarlatti, Bach, Haydn, Mozart, the list runs on.
Preparation for competitions demands patience and thought. Mindless practicing creates mindless performances. Every note, every phrase requires meticulous care.
All the while, I admit I am scared. I fear of where I will go, what I will do, who I will meet... because it seems nothing will ever fit, and I'll never have time.
Every time I doubt, every time I fear, I remember that I am only capable of doing by best, and one day, everything will work out...
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