I was standing there today with everyone clapping and screaming like I’d just saved the world or something. My arm was literally shaking from the last movement of the Tchaikovsky but I just put on that stupid, humble smile and bowed. It’s funny, right? People are actually crying in the front row because of "my soul" or whatever bullshit they think they’re seeing up there, but I was just thinking about the grocery list. I was thinking about whether or not I remembered to change the sheets on my dad’s bed before I left the house this morning. I hit every note perfectly—not a single scratch, not a single slip—and all I could feel was this massive, heavy itch to just drop the damn thing and run to the parking lot. I didn't feel proud. I didn't feel "artistic." I felt like a battery that was at 1% and someone was trying to make me run a marathon. Is that weird? Does everyone feel like a total fraud when they’re successful? Because I felt like a machine.