Effulgent

♡ 1 ♡

♡Lilith♡

I have always loved playing the piano, being thrown into the instrument as a small child was scary, but when I look back, I know I wouldn't change a thing.

Now, playing is like talking, without the words, without judgment or worry. I can share my pain, my love, my sadness and joy with the world and anyone who isn't an avid pianist would never know the difference. The only time I find myself able to let my walls down and no longer pretend to be this perfect girl I know people see me as, the person they expect me to be.

Yet it's the reason people hate me. I never grasped the idea of hating people you've never met but I've come to realize it's not for me to understand.

So, when I saw this piano, dusty and unloved I couldn't stop myself from playing. Then again, whenever I see a piano and feel my emotions rising to uncontrollable levels, I can never stop myself from playing. Like an addict needing a fix. Often getting lost as I play, caught up in feeling the emotions I've long learned to suppress for the sake of the people around me. People who treat my feelings as an inconvenience.

Time slows when I play, sometimes I don't know I've been playing for hours. Unable to feel my fingers cramping as I'm lost in the trance meanwhile everyone around me continues on with their day as I pour my heart out in front of them. Sharing with them the deepest corners of my soul. I think it brings me comfort to know they don't give it a second glance, or a questioning gaze.

The words I can't say, the things I can't share, are exposed at each press of the key, each step of the pedals.

I'm brought out of my trance as I feel someone's eyes on me, normally people don't stop to watch when it's the simpler pieces, they go on about their day simply unimpressed. Not used to being watched so intensely I have to focus to make sure I don't mess up, that'd be an embarrassment. Fourteen years of hard work and a simple piece at that, I'll be damned if one person's gaze messes me up.

Oddly enough, I like it when people stop to watch me. It lets me wrap myself in the illusion they can see through the facade and see me.

I find my life is full of conflicting views.

As I finish the song, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. A ritual I've learned to do since playing became more to me. Finding myself needing to calm down and shove my feelings back into their designated boxes. I feel a drop hit my leg; only then do I realize I've let out a tear, I quickly wipe it away not wanting anyone to notice.

I turn quickly, wanting to see who has been watching me, but I only get the sight of a tall man, with icy blonde hair walking away, his head hanging low seemingly ashamed, but of what? I begin to get out of my seat, determined to confront him and ask him who he is and what he thought of my performance, but my mother suddenly stands in front of me, her perfume laced with cigarette smoke quickly fills my nose.

"Dear, that was beautiful. Come on, we must get home now" her sharp voice cuts through the air, I can't help but look over her shoulder, wanting one last glimpse at the mysterious man who had stopped and watched my performance only to find he's gone. Finally letting out a defeated sigh I nod at my mother, not bothering to look at her face as I turn on my heels to leave. Her footsteps quickly behind me as if I need to be kept on a tight leash.

I've found myself volunteering at the hospital, in the cancer ward. One of my favorite kids had recently passed, he was only four. The guilt of not being here as he passed was eating away at me from the inside trying desperately to crawl out until I couldn't keep it contained.

My father's voice booms through the car as he talks to one of his business partners, his eyes catching mine in the rearview mirror sending nervous chills through my bones. Instead of acknowledging it I simply stare out the window hopelessly, the blonde stranger overtaking all of my thoughts.