"Artists are gatekeepers of the truth. We are civilization's radical voice." 

Not only was Paul Robeson a talented bass singer, but he also was heavily involved in the American Civil Rights Movement; and a part from past classical musicians and Cha Jun Young, he's one of my idols.

Before every performance, I repeat those words of his, I try to think about what they mean, and I question if I'm truly a gatekeeper of the truth.

Then I begin to wonder about what truth am I supposed to be protecting or letting out into the world. I also begin to think about whether or not my music will ever touch a person, or motivate individuals when they need support.

That's when I start to think about my purpose as a musician, I think about why I play the cello and why I decided to compose. And that's when I realize that I was actually forced into it and because I thought that I couldn't get away from it, I grew to love what I do.

I also think about what life would be like if I had the opportunity to choose, and that's a mystery to me. My entire identity is a mystery, it pisses me off and it also makes me really, really sad and a bit depressed. 

And that's how Mysterium was created. 

Breathe in, breathe out. Repeat. 

You got this Choi Mi Na, it's not your first solo piece and I'm pretty sure it won't be the last. 

I stand backstage as I wait for my cue to enter the stage. The show is in full swing, and so far it's been successful without any hiccups, and for that I'm thankful.

But it's almost time for me to go on and I can't decipher my feelings right now.

Am I nervous?

Am I tired?

Am I hungry? 

Maybe a combination of all three. 

I grip both my cello and bow tightly as I shift my weight from one foot to the next, I honestly just want to go on  stage and get this over with. Why am I scheduled to close the show anyway?

Conductor Smith knows that my piece is deeply emotional, he should have ended things with a bang than closing with something that will literally pull at your heartstrings and possibly make you feel like sh*t. 

Speak for yourself Mi Na. 

You better not cry during this performance. 

I groan softly as the announcer continue on and on about some cr*p that I do not care about. 

"Are you ready?" the voice of Kim Jae Eun snaps me back to reality. 

Jae Eun is about three years older than me but we auditioned for the Orchestra the same time, she plays the violin though. We're kinda like string buddies, but she's always busy with something so we hardly hang out. 

"So? What are we looking at?"

She sighs at my question, "the usual Seoul elite is here, with a few rich people from Japan and Europe, those are probably Conductor Smith's people. Oh, there are more people from the Blue House than last time."

I raise my eyebrows at her, "How much?"

She bites her lip, "all of them? I don't know. When word got out that you were doing a solo piece, my source from marketing told me that ticket sales immediately skyrocketed." 

Just great, it's not like I'm under pressure or anything. 

"Oh, some percussion girls were going crazy earlier. Apparently someone famous is in the audience." 

I roll my eyes, "probably not important, I-"

Before I could continue with my sentence, I hear the announcer begin her introduction. 

"Our last performance, will be from Choi Mi Na, a young but very talented cellist who has been with the Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra for four years now. The piece she will be entitled is called Mysterium and is an original. Please hold any additional applause until the end of the performance. Thank you." 

The sound of the audience's applause almost drowns out Jae