Butterflies And Dodgy Notes

   Singing in front of an audience has to be one of the most nerve wracking experiences life can throw at you. I can't understand why people would do it for a living.

   The first nerves hit you even before you begin. There's a sickly pain in the pit of your stomach, reminding you you shouldn't be doing this, even as you wake in the morning. Then it grows slowly as the hours pass. Until it reaches that time.

   As the first note chimes in your ears a dread appears in your mind asking you "Why are you doing this again?". Your head is searching for those all important first words. It locates them moments before they're needed. And then you let that breath that you've been holding in for so long, out, in a shaky melody that struggles to join with the tune.

   Your head clears of everything around you, and your mind becomes completely focussed on that one task. The odd dodgy notes knocks you, and you're forced to open your eyes to see if anyone has noticed. Before your mind suddenly remembers it's place.

   That last note falls out of your throat and into the room and you slowly become conscious of your surroundings. The final few strums of the guitar hold a complete silence from the audience before the sound of clapping reaches your ears. Deep down you know you're happy, they like it. But you're still annoyed at those few dodgy notes that got away.