Anxiety Descriptive Writing

Walking down the hallway I remember experiencing the familiar feeling of anxiety drip down my spine, feeling the outside world getting larger, and myself getting smaller. I shake it off as I begin to turn and enter the dressing room door. When I enter I am welcomed by my family, who have been waiting to congratulate me on my first show. My eyes analyze them in order across the room. My mother, who used to always sing me songs when I was a child, not being the most excellent at it, but always able to make me fall asleep. My brother, who had an odd and troubled childhood, throughout my career he would always discourage my aims for success. A memory enters from the back of my conscious, taking me into a self-contained, self-absorbed, solipsistic
A fear of being found out. Just fear. I have no idea why my whole life I have spent my life in an anxiety filled day-dream. Just once I would like to experience something to its fullest. Without having the ever so lovely fear of forgetting where I am or what I'm doing. In my mental rant, I hear a knock on the door, my agent enters the room telling me “Showtime!” in his pseudo-enthusiastic voice. I walk down the hallway experiencing the familiar feeling of anxiety drip down my spine, feeling the outside world getting larger, and myself getting smaller. I shake it off as I begin to turn and enter the stage-room door. I hear the crowd cheering, I sit down at the keys microphone to my mouth about to play, when the crowd covered in stares becomes a pastel colored memory in the side-view of my vision. I feel peace come to myself, I am relaxed as the keys begin harmonize together. I don't feel the need to drown out my anxieties in fantasies, the crowd intently staring at me is enough to keep me tethered to reality for once. There is a certain pair of eyes staring at me through the crowd, I scan as I sing the song I'm being paid to preform. I scan and see my family, watching intently being proud, my brother watching with an almost remorseful contemptuousness for my achievements, he is changed from once who he was. A cruel, bitter, person. Now, reformed being an actual active member of society, he is not even related to who he once was, although still showing signs of being able to switch back with great velocity, making those around him afraid to enrage him. I peruse through the audience once more, finding people staring at me to be fascinating, just wondering into my thoughts as deep as how just encapsulating it is to believe that anyone could want to play like this. Have people stare at them for a few minutes whilst a human being preforms a type of art on a stage. To prevent myself from going off, and losing track