Buzzed Hearts

60: imposter syndrome

LOVE AND HATE. Those exist on two parallels and Camila feels it all in the span of two hours. She has an unsurpassable devotion towards music, yet when she sits at the chair in front of a Steinway, sometimes playing up to ten hours a day, she begins to feel the pressure.

    Though having been in a conservatory at a very young age, and no stranger to this sedentary lifestyle, Camila missed the exceptionally small margin to lead a normal life. Yet if she rationalizes this desire, she finds that normal to her varies to that of others.

    Hours after hours, she's in a room. Sometimes, she goes to the Writing Center to tutor music theory, after grabbing something at Fairway, and then she'll work on the next performance. Countless performance opportunities and Camila might be getting sick of it.

    Back at home, Camila was on her own comfortable stratosphere. First place in everything she entered. Here in New York, she has a heavy case of imposter syndrome.

    "I don't belong here," she says to Andrew, over a video call.

    "Shut up, Camila. You blew your audition and they were so impressed they offered you a full ride."

    His hair is damp from showering and he has yet to put on a shirt—which Camila deeply appreciates.

    "Everyone is perfect. You don't understand. I feel like I'm here just because I'm lucky enough to have gotten in. You know, this one guy only practices four hours a day and gets away with it?"

    "Mm," Andrew mumbles. He sighs and Camila feels the same, the void of touch. "What are you working on now?"

    "Scriabin. B Minor Fantasy. What did you do today?"

    "Missed my morning class and played ball with my friends," he replied.

    "Oh my gosh, you know, I saw Perlman in the hall this morning," she gushes. "Honestly, I'm living my dream but it's someone else's."

    "You—"

    "I think we should break up."

    Andrew stares at his webcam and Camila bites her lip. He draws back, the glow from his laptop leaving his skin.

    "We shouldn't do long distance. I'm...depriving you."

    "No, you're not. Can we talk about this?"

    "Not now. My roommate just got back. Andrew...it's okay if you like someone else. I don't blame you," she says.

    "Camila, stop talking. We'll talk in the morning."

    "Can't. I have a meeting with a staff pianist."

    "When are you free?"

    "Next year."

    "Camila."

    "Tomorrow night. Love you."

    "Apparently not enough if you want to break up."

    "Bye, Drew," she says and hangs up.

    She sighs and lies back on her bed. They've been through this limbo a dozen times already and Andrew's still not convinced that she's unconvinced. Three months into adult life and Camila is ready to escape it.