I'm three years overdue.

That thought crossed my mind as I walked out of my All-State flute audition my senior year of high school. Every year, I've spent the months of August through December relentlessly rehearsing for auditions in January. And every year, I've gotten the same result -- rejected.

Last year's audition was the worst, however. I had messed up on every single scale I was required to play. My first note had terrible tone and by the second half of the first scale, I had already fallen into an unsteady tempo. My hands and notes were shaky, and I knew the judges wouldn't take kindly to my acute lack of self-confidence.

When I was walking out the door, the judges gave me what sounded like a pity "thank you." It felt terrible to hear that from the people I had spent months preparing to impress.

After my audition, I teetered on the brink of a full-blown crying spell. My parents tried to console me, but all I could think about was how I had let myself down again. I thought again about why I had imploded during the audition.

Why do I do what I do even though I fail each time? Why do I continuously audition even though I doubt myself and know the audition will be a flop, just as the last time? The judges must have thought I was one of those students who only auditioned because it was required by their band director. But I wasn't that student. I was the student that had practiced and prepared for months because I knew that this is one of my biggest passions and it’s in-born for me to always try my hardest in things which I love.

I do what I do because I love music, I love playing the flute, and I love and respect myself enough to keep trying, and because sometimes sentiment is more important than winning, good spirit is more important than fame, and passion is more important than success.