When I was 14 or 15 years old, wherever I would go to play the piano, there'd always be someone there to compliment me and to ask me, "Wow, how old are you!?" the moment I stepped away from the bench. When I'd tell them, I'd watch their jaws drop and hear streams of praise spew out of their mouths like water from a broken faucet. It felt good to have an instant fan-club wherever I went--a little like a celebrity. :) Talent preceeded my years, and fame liked to follow me.
But that was years ago.
Nowadays, even though I'm 18, I still look young enough to pass for 15 or 16. And so, whenever I play the piano somewhere, I'm praised then asked the same question. "Wow, how old are you!?" I respond with "18," but instead of that expression of awe apparent on the askers' faces, I'm greeted with looks of almost-disappointment! Whether it's because I should be younger, or because I should be better, either way I am somehow a let-down to the could-be fans that eagerly ask my age after I play. It's sad, really, how just a few years can turn me from a child piano prodigy to a mediocre ivory-pounder... How fleeting fame is! I almost miss it.
Silly thing.
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