I miss you, my monster.

It’s funny how in some of my darkest moments I do not seek comforting words nor kind embraces, but instead yearn deeply for a fiery anguish that I once fought against. I never wanted to be by your side when I was forced into your hands. I never did like you all too much when you were the biggest thorn in my life. I’m still not quite sure I like you now. Still, strangely enough, I miss you.

I’ve always thought of you as a monster: dark, and filled with all the frustrations I compounded within you; hollow, with no possible understanding of all the sorrow that I was consumed with; terrifying, because I always running away. So I’ll continue to call you monster.

Without me, you were worthless. With you, I was the one that felt that way. I felt like there were impassable barriers  – that I just didn’t have the talent to become your master. There was so much I wanted to express, but I never found the right notes to do just that. Always, always, I felt an insurmountable desire to give up. Always, always, I was forced back into your hand. I despised the redundancy of repeating the same melodies over and over, memorizing the movements as if I were just a machine. I just wanted to play new things all the time, but I knew that would get me nowhere.

Though sometimes, nowhere was okay. Nowhere was a safe place to be. I would slam the keys and cry my heart out, realigning the hard-pressed edges of my life. I would release every angry thought in a flurry of chords played fortissimo, pressing down the pedal so that everything meshed into one amalgamation of harshness. It was best when the house was empty, when I could immerse myself in some desperate melody. Though sometimes I just didn’t care, even if everybody outside could hear this disgraceful use of an instrument. Maybe a part of me wanted everyone else to see you for the monster that you were. The monster that you still are in my mind – because the memories never fade.

As much as I hated you then, I miss you now. I miss the sensation of release, of mindlessly pouring out my emotions as if you could absorb all the terrible things that I was feeling. I wish you were here in this cold, callous city to warm me with frenzied passion. I wish you were here to allure me to sleep with the gentle lullabies I always liked to play. I wish you were here to I could go through a stack of music and find solace in something more beautiful than I will ever create.

I…I have nothing more to say,

but I miss you.

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78 – I will thrive someday.

Had a really hard time yesterday.

I failed my driving learner’s test. I really didn’t want to. Didn’t mean to. And I knew I was ready. But sometimes you can’t account for nerves, can’t account for emotions, and sometimes those things can get the best of you. I broke down, of course. Because failure isn’t something anyone likes. It’s stressful. I wanted it done this year. Before I have to go back to Toronto again. There’s been a whole ton of money invested into driving lessons and I feel I let that all slip away from me. So I was devastated. This failure combined with all the stress of not knowing where I should go, being rejected on so many fronts from UBC (they insist on making me a year behind), and having my self esteem wrecked at work. It was really too much. It was worse than failing my ARCT exam. By a margin of miles.

But I pulled it together. There are so many beautiful things in life that I have yet to discover. So many little things that make me smile everyday. And life’s too short to waste it constantly on tears. So I pulled it together. Took a nice warm shower and settled down to find things that make me happy.

And I was happy again. For a little while.

Then my mom came home.

I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt and say she just had a bad day, but I know it’s not true. Especially not after the hurtful reasoning she threw at me. She yelled at me for not trying hard enough. Not practicing enough. Procrastinating on it until the last minute. She said it was the same way with piano. The way I wouldn’t practice. And the way I failed. And that hurt. I had related the two exams by the feelings of failure and disappointment in myself I felt, by the mental breakdowns I had. But she related it to my horrible work ethics, to my inability.

And I was too battered by my earlier breakdown – I was barely keeping myself together at that point – to fight back.

But she’s wrong.

I failed my test due to my nerves, due to my getting flustered after one mistake. And there’s really no way to prepare for that. All I can do is try again. And it’s not likely to be this summer with all the appointments booked. And frankly, after having all my tenacity wasted on UBC, I don’t have the willpower to call everyday and check if they have an appointment open (because every time they say they don’t, it’s another disappointment in my face).

It was the same way with piano. My nerves always got the best of me. I would mess up entire songs at piano recitals, do horribly in piano competitions because I couldn’t get my fingers to stop shaking or be too stiff.  I agree that I should’ve practiced more in terms of piano. But I also believe I should’ve stopped playing a long, long time ago. I enjoy playing what I want. Not classical music that showcases my nonexistent technique. I want to be playing for my sake, for making others happier, not to impress some examiner. And thus, I could never be motivated to take the exam again.

I’m not good in situations where I’m openly judged. But I’ll try again with driving. But I won’t with piano. And it’s wrong. To think that practicing more will get rid of all my mistakes, all of my nervousness. I’m sure there are classes to  help relieve nerves. To make someone feel better about interviews, public speaking, performances. And I’m sure I could use those. But I’m also happy knowing that I’m not charismatic, I’m not a natural performer. And you can’t bash me for that.

I was at a cavernous low yesterday. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve even had the thought of suicide. And it came to me yesterday. Like a ghost. In the clutches of a pill case with forty-ish pills of naproxen. I’m sure I could overdose if I took all of them at once even if they’re two years old. Or at least feel nothing for a long time. But I would never.

Suicide requires a crap ton of bravery which I don’t have.

Not to mention a huge load of stupidity.

It’s never a good idea to kill yourself. That’s why I’ve always shook my head at the idea of Romeo and Juliet. The future is full of choices to make. You can bring yourself anywhere. Move beyond anything. And there’s no reason to stop and give up just because you’re at a low point in life. Just smile. There’s probably a high point just waiting around the corner.

I got my boyfriend to talk me down from my frantic hyperventilation. To calm my sobs into a sluggish sleepy slate. And after a good night’s rest, I feel better. My mom acts like she wasn’t the one who inflicted all this horrible pain upon me last night. And whatever. We’ll leave it at that.

I’m done with blaming others. Everything you feel can be controlled by you. And I can choose next time not to be hurt. (Though I probably will. Work in progress..?)

I’m happy again.

I have a million problems to worry about, to try and find solutions to.

But it’s okay.

I’m happy again.

56

Why are you sad?

I don’t know. I just don’t know. My mood changes like this global warming infested weather. One moment I’m screaming words I didn’t intend to say, and the next I find comfort in the silence. Then the tears come for bad memories are often drawn to the silence.

My fingers crashed, but they inflicted no difference upon the monster. He knows me too well. Knows that he is immune to my words and my attacks. I fought him harder as if in a cry for help. But that cry was in a language that no one will ever understand. Forte, forte, forte. There was no gentleness left in me today. I was not satisfied until the numbness came to mind. I will lose him soon enough. I will escape his grasp and find a better place…but it is always frightening to look towards somewhere unfamiliar. He is familiar, too familiar; yet because I know his other face, I cannot despise him completely. He is sometimes useful for my needs.

I have come to a realization as to why I prefer my brother’s bed to mine. It is safer in his room. He protects me from the monster…most of the time anyway. And perhaps, I don’t feel so alone.

Sometimes I question how the monster came to be. When did it start? And why did I run from all the prior opportunities to terminate his existence? It was never meant to be like this. It was a silly whim. To follow and perform like my dear best friend. Sometimes I wonder if it’s all a mistake…but his other face, his other face! It tantalizes me evermore…

I will name him when this is all over…when I am done all that I think I should do. He will have a proper name, but something bestial – I think that would suit him best.

Monster, monster, knocking at the doors of my mind…

He reminds me of all the things I fear.

Reminds me that what I feared and thought to have overcome may actually still be lurking in the shadows.

He is unkind.

But you are too kind.

Too kind to rescue me from his grasp.

Hah.

He and loneliness make good partners.

Music and I

Music is the toxin

I have yet to find the cure for

The plague within my heart

That grows on ever more

 

The black and white monster

Inflicting terror on my mind

Will never cease to haunt me

Will always trail behind

 

My tears have no effect

In this never ending war

The battles come from day to day

Knocking at my door

 

Some days I wander hopeless

Some days I want to stop

But I must not lose this struggle

I must fight until I drop

 

In the end I still believe

That every monster, every beast

Every little evil thing

Has a bit of love at least

 

A little bit of light that shines

Through the darkness, through the void

A charming smile to bring out hope

A wooing rhythm to be enjoyed

 

So music, now I must ask you, do you dare?

I see the goodness in you, fair and square.

allegro appassionato

I cannot reach inside

to pull apart

your strings

You

monster

that plagues my darkened heart

I press hard

with all my strength

trying to tear apart

the strings of your design

I push harder and harder

with every chord

pounding

crushing

but useless

A resonating melody

sings

taunts

I hate

your corrosive laugh

 

My fingers grow numb

their energy drained

but their hatred sustained

fine

fine

you win this time

muse of light

black, white,

muse of light.

 

pressing down with all my might

the keys of my sorrow

the sharps of my fight

my dreams of tomorrow

and the flats of tonight.

 

your roar is loud enough to conquer my doubt, soft enough to put me to sleep,

tender enough to soften my tears, true enough to reach way down deep.

 

sometimes i play you when the world shuts its lights away

when all i feel is the dull, cold gray.

and sometimes i play you when my life feels wrong,

when i’ve lost hold of what i knew all along.

but mostly, i play you when my heart has reached its bitter bounds,

when i’m in need of your soothing sound.

 

when i play you, you shed your black and white coat

and you light the colours inside you afloat.

 

i resent you so much when i am forced to play

but sometimes

just sometimes

you make my day.

[CAS] Piano Recital

I love music.

I really can’t say much more than that.

There’s something about performing at a mall that always strikes my heart and not necessarily in the best way. I’m a bad performer. I’ll admit that now before I get anyone thinking that I’m actually good at performing. Just performing in general. Just because it was piano this time doesn’t mean that has any effect on the result of my performance. No, I’m simply bad at dealing with an audience.

I love playing the piano. Not practicing, but playing. I love hearing the notes come alive before me. Cheesy, but it’s true.

This recital for me was probably my worst performance yet. I don’t think I’ve ever played that badly except maybe during that piano festival two years ago where I completely screwed up and had to start over. Yeah, that’s right. Failure is my best pal when it comes to piano. That’s okay. Failure now is better than failure later…if there is a later. It’s hard to say when it comes to piano. I’m not quite sure what I’m doing with it. I’ll finish ARCT and see where to go from there. Aiming to take my exam a little over a year from now. Not sure if I’m going to be able to, but a girl can try, can’t she?

My performance of Joy to the World was alright. My Impromptu? Horrific. I was laughing by the end of it. My teacher laughed too. I messed up big time though I didn’t stop so I guess whatever audience I had didn’t notice too much. IB has seriously been cutting into my practice time. Well definitely make it a goal to practice more.

What have I learned today and so far from piano this year? Performing is a major weakness. Improvisation is a strength of mine.

Challenge/Goal: Make my next performance, regardless of location and time, as perfect as possible.

I think my teacher knows I don’t practice. Hah. Yeah, I have a long way to go in my musical  career.  To think that it only started since I was trying to do everything my friend was doing…11 years ago. Time passes by so fast.